


Ask the Wizard

by smithereen



Category: Disney RPF, Jonas Brothers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Crack, Gen, Het, Immortality, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to turn a Heavy Metal Band into an Overnight Teen Sensation in just 25 short years.  With unicorns. (This is the epic platonic love story of Nick and Joe.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask the Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this SNL Digital Short](http://www.hulu.com/watch/57945/saturday-night-live-snl-digital-short-property-of-the-queen).

**1983**

"Fucking awesome show," Joe slurred, bottle of whiskey loose in his hand. He could feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face, past his headband, matting his hair to his head, sticking the open sides of his shirt to his chest. He blotted at his temples with his scarf, looking vaguely at the four stairs he was required to navigate to get from the stage to backstage. They seemed really fucking steep. And possibly they were moving. He could see Nick at the bottom of them, his hat slung low over his eyes, the fringe on his jacket swaying while he signed some girl's tits. Joe stumbled forward and caught himself with a heavy arm slung over Nick's shoulder. "Fucking awesome, Nicky." He tugged, pulling Nick backwards, almost losing his balance. Nick held him up with an arm around Joe's waist.

"I was kind of busy," Nick said, throwing a look over his shoulder at that random chick's tits. Whatever. There would be more tits backstage. Nick would forgive him.

"Did you see them screaming?" Joe said, right into Nick's ear. His little brother's laughter was loud, vibrating a bit against the inside of Joe's skull. Joe tilted his head back, letting it wash over him. "That was for us."

They pushed through the dingy hallway, papered with peeling flyers, lined with people reaching out to slap them on their shoulders, on their backs. Lined with women. Joe leered at a blond and held out his free arm as they passed. She immediately tucked herself in against his side. Joe squeezed her closer, laughing. Joe was so drunk. Everything was so blurry and bright. Nick was sweaty and solid against his side. Kevin was... Somewhere. They had women. They had booze. They had a video on MTV. Granted it was airing at 2am, but it was them and it looked fucking amazing and it was on MTV for fuck's sake.

They were _Property of the Queen_ , and they'd killed it tonight.

Life didn't get any better.

*

The guy was dressed like a freak. It wasn't a judgment; it was just an observation. He had on a cape or some shit. And a giant pointy hat with all these moons on it. And his beard was like, three feet long. He wasn't there, and then when Joe looked up from sticking his tongue into this girl's mouth, the guy was standing in front of him like he'd been there all along.

"Hey," Joe said. "It's a party." He waved vaguely at the random bottles of booze, the pot on the table, and the people sprawled all over the furniture in invitation. Just because he didn't know who the guy was or where he'd come from didn't mean he couldn't party.

"You guys rock," the man said.

"Thanks, man." Joe grinned, and threw up some devil horns. "Rock ouuuuuut!" he yelled.

Nick stirred. His head was in Joe's lap, the rest of him stretched out over the couch. He blearily slid his hat up from where it had been covering his face. "I'm awake," he mumbled. The girl whose mouth Joe had been sticking his tongue into leaned over from her seat curled next to Joe's side and pressed a deep, wet, upside down kiss to Nick's lips. Nick grunted a little, reaching up to tangle his gloved hand in her hair.

Kevin slouched over. He still had on his tiger striped spandex pants, but he'd lost his jacket somewhere. He looked at the pointy hat dude. "Who's he?" He motioned with his thumb at the guy. "Is he supposed to be back here?" He looked around for their security. Kevin was so uptight.

"He's a fan." Joe spread his arms out across the sofa and threw his head back again. Everything looked so upside down. "Fans rock!"

"Are you with a band?" Kevin stared at the guy's pointy hat. "Or a child's birthday party?"

"Not exactly," the guy said. "I'm a friend."

"Of who?" Kevin said suspiciously.

"Of you," the old man said. "It's been years since I've seen anyone worthy." Joe squinted. It would've been a lot easier to follow this conversation if things would stop spinning around like that. "I wanted to offer you guys something-"

"Drugs?" Kevin said.

"Booze?" Joe said.

"Grlpms?" Nick mumbled around that girl's tongue.

"Better," the guy said.

Nick pushed the girl off him and half sat up. Joe cocked his head. Kevin stroked his moustache curiously.

"Tell us more," Nick said.

"How does immortality sound?"

Nick snorted, disappointed.

"You mean like rock immortality?" Kevin said. "Like our legacy?"

"I mean actual immortality," the old guy said. "Living forever."

Kevin looked like he was about two seconds away from screaming for Neal, the burliest of their honestly not that great security guys. The guys were awesome at picking which girls to let backstage. They didn't really bother with much of anything else. But probably they could deal with one crazy old guy.

"You're pretty fucking bonkers, man," Joe said to the old guy. He gave him a big thumbs up. You had to respect that level of just escaped from the loony bin insanity.

"Maybe we should speak about this privately," the old guy said. He tapped this big stick he was carrying on the ground, and all of a sudden there was nobody in the room but the four of them.

Joe blinked. Dude. He was way drunker than he thought.

The guy tapped his stick on the ground again, and they were standing in- It was kind of nowhere. Just dark and stars forever. Joe looked down at his feet that were not standing on anything. Nick's feet were next to his, also not standing on anything. "Holy shit," he said. "I think I just blacked out."

"What the fuck?" Kevin said.

"This is-" Nick frowned. "This is not possible. This is-"

"Magic," the old guy said.

"Sweet!" Joe said.

"Joe," Nick chided. "That's ridiculous."

"Look," the old guy said. "I don't have time to dick around here. I mean, I do have time. Infinite time really. But I'd rather skip ahead to the parts that are less boring." He swung his staff in a wide circle and rainbows or some shit shot all out in every direction and then they were standing in the middle of the desert somewhere and the sun was so, so fucking bright it was just stabbing and stabbing into Joe's eyes. And there were like, giraffes.

And unicorns.

Joe squeezed his eyes closed, and then opened them again. "Yeah," he said. Those were definitely unicorns. He bent over with his hands braced on his knees and threw up into the sand. Nick's hand came down on the nape of his neck, stroking a little, until he pulled himself upright. Joe wiped at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"This is the weirdest trip I've ever been on."

"We all see them," Nick said. He turned to the old man and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where the hell are we, Wizard?"

"Africa," The Wizard said.

"Since when are there unicorns in Africa?" Kevin said.

"I brought those." The Wizard grinned. "Aren't they rad?"

Nick frowned. Joe nodded. They were pretty rad. Kevin stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

"So?" Nick said impatiently. "What are we doing here?"

"I'm only trying to give you guys the secret of immortality." The Wizard sounded a little disgruntled. "Don't bother to thank me or anything."

"Why us?" Nick was not buying this.

"I'm a fan." The Wizard shrugged.

Joe held out his hand for a high-five. The wizard smacked him one up high. "Fans rock!" Joe yelled.

Kevin and Nick still looked skeptical.

"I've been around a long time," The Wizard said. "Like a really, really long time. I saw your video-"

" _I got struck- By lightning!_ " Joe wailed at the top of his lungs. The giraffes froze, their heads swiveling sharply on long necks.

" _And it really hurt!_ " The Wizard sang. He started jamming on air guitar, and Joe kicked wildly into the air. The giraffes wheeled slowly away from the leaves they were eating and started to run. "I had to check you guys out. It's not that often somebody rocks me like you guys did tonight."

Joe pumped his fist. Nick cracked a smile despite himself. Kevin stroked his moustache proudly.

"You guys deserve eternal life," The Wizard said. "So you can keep making music forever."

"This is fucking awesome," Joe said.

"What's the catch?" Nick said.

"He's right," Kevin said. "There's always a catch."

"Well..." The Wizard shrugged. "There is one thing." He traced a triangle with the end of his staff in the sand, peeking up almost shyly. "It's a pretty big deal. Eternal life and everything. The universe requires, you know. A sacrifice."

"Like a human sacrifice?" Nick recoiled.

"No, no," The Wizard said. "That's grody. I meant, um- Youcan'teverhavesexagain."

"Whassat?" Joe knocked at the side of his head, right by his ear, with the heel of his hand.

"You can't ever have sex again," Nick translated, and then froze.

"Fuck that." Joe recoiled harder than Nick had at human sacrifice.

"Wait a second." Kevin held up his hand. "We're talking about eternal life here."

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "We're talking about living forever without ever having sex again. No thanks." He held out his hand to The Wizard for a shake. "I mean, nice to meet you and everything, Wizard dude. But how can you even call that living?"

"Everlasting life, guys." Nick sounded like he couldn't even hear Joe, couldn't see anything past the shining promise of all that time stretching endlessly outward.

"No," Joe said, stubbornly.

"Think of all the things we could see and do," Kevin said. Not him too!

"We'd never get old," Nick turned a wistful smile on Joe. "No wrinkles. No hair loss. No Alzheimer's. Young forever."

Joe touched his lustrous, beautiful, thick hair. Well, that was a good p- No! Nick was smiling at him with that hopeful, begging smile he got sometimes. That smile was the reason there'd been a pot bellied pig living on the bus with them for six months. Joe was never very good at saying no to that smile. Still. His jaw firmed. "No." Even he could hear the waver in his voice.

Nick looked at the Wizard speculatively. "Do blowjobs count?"

*

The unicorn's name was Rafael. When his horn touched Joe's finger it didn't hurt, but there was a flash so bright it knocked Joe backwards into the hot sand and burned away his sight for a full minute. He blinked at the ring on his finger as blank whiteness turned into bright green and electric pink shapes that slowly faded from his vision.

The ring was silver. Kind of plain. It felt cold on his hand. Heavy, and very cold.

 **1984**

Joe had no intention of staying completely celibate. God, that was an ugly word. He knew there were people who never had sex their entire lives: priests, monks, librarians. But there was a reason Joe had become a rock star and not a monk. There was plenty of wiggle room in the deal they'd made, and he planned to take advantage of every single inch.

The good news was he had the rest of forever to research the human orgasm.

The bad news was holy shit, he was dying to just fucking _fuck_ someone already.

He was old-fashioned like that.

*

Eating pussy was not something Joe had dedicated that much time to before the- Well, before. Now he got a lot of practice. You had to do something, if you couldn't do- Other things. There was professional pride at stake here. Unlike some other bands Joe was not going to mention by name ( _Mötley Crüe_ ) they actually cared about their fans. Their fans made all _Property of the Queen_ 's successes possible. Their fans gave them presents, and bought their records, and showed up night after night in tight t-shirts and short skirts with no underwear. They owed their fans everything. Joe was not going to leave the fans unsatisfied no matter what stupid cosmic restraints he had on his dick. There were no cosmic restraints on his tongue, and he was really, really fucking good at using it.

Of course, Nick was better.

The thing about Nick was he was super competitive. About everything. If Joe was good at something, Nick had to be better at it. Joe didn't really mind. Winning mattered more to Nick. Joe liked for Nick to have the things that mattered to him.

Which wasn't to say that they didn't keep a running tally of hash marks on the wall of the bus. Or that Joe didn't gloat to Nick every time a girl told him he was better. Just to keep things interesting.

By the time their new album came out, they probably had five times as many groupies as they used to have. Before. Joe read the chatter on bathroom walls. He heard things through the grapevine. The ladies weren't following the tour because "Africa" had climbed to number fourteen on the rock charts. The ladies had other reasons.

Joe liked to throw that in Vince Neill's face as much as possible.

 **1985**

Joe did not remember much of 1985.

He figured that meant it was a really good year. The best parties were always the ones you couldn't remember in the morning.

 **1986**

He was so close. Fuck. So close. Joe groaned, grinding down against the half naked girl underneath him. She was making these noises. These needy little pants right next to his ear. And her fingernails on his back, on his arms. And her tongue against his neck. Everything was like a dream, like it was already the next morning and he could only remember jagged little bits of it that didn't fit together all the way. Except it was happening now. Now. In jagged little-

Fuck.

She snaked her hand down between them, and he heard the metallic snick of his zipper unzipping loud as fuck. There was something he was supposed to- He wasn't supposed to-

Oh God.

Her hand. So good. He was so drunk. His cock was so hard. He sagged against her, his forehead in the damp curve of her neck, his chest tight against the soft, soft curves of her breasts. He was pressing, pressing against her.

Her hand tightened around him just enough, slick and hot and-

Joe squeezed his eyes shut tight, his head thrown back. God. Fuck.

Her skirt was up around her waist. She was guiding him into that tight, wet- He was supposed to- There was something-

God, she was so hot, so wet. He needed-

A hand came down tight on the nape of his neck, pulling hard. Joe turned, distracted by the wet heat of her. He slid against her slick and perfect and he was almost, almost, almost there. It was so good- So fucking- Nick was glaring at him. "Nicky," Joe slurred happily. "I love you so much. You're so-" The girl's fingers dug into his back, and he forgot was he was saying. "Good," he mumbled. "Feels-" He leaned down to kiss her, pressing toward her, almost, almost. Nick's hand caught in his hair, yanking him away from her. Joe sprawled backwards on the couch, panting.

"What the fuck, Nick?" he said. "Wait your turn." His hand curved around his cock, and he thrust shallowly, his breath sharp. He wanted- He was so close.

Nick picked the girl's shirt up off the floor and tossed it at her. She held it awkwardly, blinking at them both in confusion, her eyes heavy lidded, her lips wet and half parted.

"Get lost," Nick said.

"Nick! Don't be-" Joe panted. "-rude!"

"Please get lost," Nick said icily.

The girl stared at him. "You're kidding, right?" She leaned over, taking Joe in her hand again. He shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Um-" he said. He was lucky to get that much out, honestly.

"Joe." It was a warning. Joe forced his eyes back open. He saw Nick's face. Really saw it this time. And holy crap, he was pissed. He was pinning Joe down with this look that made Joe feel like a complete shit. Nick looked at him like he was a jackass all the time. That was okay. Joe was kind of a jackass. He knew that. He knew Nick loved him anyway. This was different. This was- He didn't- He didn't like it at all.

"Oh, fuck-" She was doing something with her hand. Something twisty and amazing and exactly, exactly- Oh God. He could feel Nick staring at him. Looking at him like that. Like he didn't even know for sure if Joe was worth it anymore. He couldn't think. Everything was all broken apart inside his head. But he tried to- He had to- "You have to-" he gasped, " -go away." He pushed her away from him, maybe a little harder than he should have, but Christ. He was- He was pushing her away. It was really, really not an easy thing to do.

"Fine," she said, disentangling herself from him with brittle fury. She pulled her skirt down and straightened her shirt. "You're an asshole."

"I know," Joe said. "Sorry." He felt completely exhausted. And he was so hard it hurt like a motherfucker. And he needed- And he couldn't move. His head felt like it weighed 400 pounds. And everything seemed like it was getting smaller and smaller, like the entire world was shrinking down around the edges, turning dark until there was only a tiny round circle left with just Nick's face in it. Nick looking at him like that. "Don't look-" he muttered right before Nick's face disappeared into the dark.

*

Nick was pinching Joe's nose shut like he used to do when they were kids. Joe sat up sputtering, gasping for air. His dick was hanging out of his undone pants. He wasn't hard anymore. That was- A plus? He flopped backwards again, and reached out lethargically to tuck himself back in. Huh. There was a pretty good chance he had pissed himself. Fuck. These were the only leather pants he owned that fit exactly right too, his favorite pair.

"You have to stop drinking," Nick said.

"Fuck you," Joe said, wincing. He felt like shit. God, his pants were ridiculously uncomfortable now. He wondered if anyone would care if he just took them off. "You're not funny."

"I'm serious."

"Go away, I'm napping." He tried to push Nick away and almost tumbled off the couch.

"Why couldn't you just be one of those drunks who can't get it up?" Nick said bitterly.

Joe squinted at Nick in disbelief. He was kidding, right? He didn't look like he was kidding. Why was he being such a dick today? Joe closed his eyes and then covered them with his hands to block the light that was still seeping in through his eyelids. "As soon as my legs start working again, I'm kicking your ass."

"I'm sending you to rehab." Nick sounded weirdly calm. Almost too calm. It was freaking Joe out a little bit. He was glad his eyes were closed, because he didn't think he wanted to see what Nick's face looked like right now.

"The fuck you are." Joe filled the words with as much bravado as he could.

"You're fucking it up," Nick said flatly. "You forget the rules when you're drunk."

"I don't forget," Joe said indignantly. "I know where the line is. I was just having a good time."

"You were wasted, and if I'd come in a minute and a half later you would have ruined everything. For all of us."

"A minute and a half?" Joe protested. "More like fifteen." He cracked his eyes open to see if Nick laughed at that, but he didn't. He looked at Joe all serious and angry and disappointed with his jaw hard, and his eyes cold, and his mouth a thin line. Joe wanted to squeeze his eyes shut again as tight as he could.

"We don't even know if it's _real_ ," Joe said. "We won't know for _years_."

"You know what happened to us," Nick said. "That was real."

"Just because _something_ happened doesn't necessarily mean we're immortal. Or whatever." It sounded ridiculous out loud. It sounded like something a crazy person would babble about. And this was what Joe was supposed to believe in? "I need a drink," Joe muttered.

That was probably not the right thing to say. Nick looked at him with something like pity, something like disgust. Something so hard and unyielding and cold. Joe could feel it in his gut, sharper than the dull ache of his head or the sour dryness of his mouth. "I'm not letting you ruin it for all of us."

Joe wanted to argue. He hadn't wanted these stupid rules, and this stupid ring anyway. Nick was the one who wanted it. Why did Nick think he'd agreed? Who did Nick think he'd done it for? And now, Nick was going to take everything? Everything Joe had left? He needed to drink. He _needed_ it. It wasn't fair. They shouldn't have asked him to- It was too much. He wanted to say- He wanted- He had to- He couldn't-

He couldn't stand for Nick to look at him like that.

*

Rehab was boring as shit. The food was crap. None of the psychologist people they had to do their "sessions" with were hot. They wouldn't let Joe wear his favorite snakeskin boots because of something ridiculous about the spurs being used as a weapon.

And there was no fucking alcohol.

At least Nick and Kev came to visit him twice a week during visiting hours. Kevin brought him his favorite Arby's Roast Beef and Cheddar. Nick brought him a girl who was happy to make out with him in the visiting room until the orderlies told her to get off his lap.

There was a reason Nick was his favorite.

*

Sober was- It was okay. More okay than he thought it would be. It was kind of like when he got glasses for the first time, and he was shocked to discover that trees were made up of individual leaves. Hundreds of them! He hadn't really realized before that things weren't actually blurry like that. That it was just him.

Being sober was kind of like, now he could see the leaves. And sometimes he really, really didn't want to thank you very much. Sometimes he wanted the nice, safe, numbing warmth of the blur half erasing everything. But other times, he kind of liked the fact that he didn't fall down as much. And he was really sharp on stage, hitting every cue, so awake he could feel the music in a completely different way. And he threw up like 90% less. That was pretty cool.

Nick stayed with him all the time when he first got out of rehab. It was like he didn't trust him at all. And granted, the first thing Joe had done when he got out was try to bribe one of their roadies to get him some whiskey. But still. It chafed a little. He didn't need his little brother baby-sitting him for fuck's sake.

He got a little pissed off at how Nick and Kevin were both being all careful around him, not letting anyone drink on the bus, trying to keep it away from the dressing rooms backstage. Both of them had been pretty heavy partiers before. Not like Joe maybe. He was willing to admit he'd occasionally taken it a bit too far. But it had been pretty rare for any of them to go on stage without a little buzz on. He didn't like the fact that they were that scared, that they were so sure he was going to fuck up if they let him. Maybe he would fuck up, he didn't know, but he was sick of them acting like he was so breakable. Wasn't the entire point of the fucked up deal they'd made the fact that none of them could ever break?

"You're rock stars," he said, dragging them to the bar after they'd played a small private club show. "Act like fucking rock stars." He ordered them both beers and watched them drink, trying not to be jealous of their lips around the bottles. Nick studied him carefully over the brown glass between them, and Joe smiled like he wasn't thirsty, like he didn't want to take that first sip and then the next one. "I'm a big boy, Nicholas," he said. It wasn't like Nick backed off all the way. But at least they started letting the roadies have a few goddamn beers when they wanted them.

And being chaperoned around all the time wasn't always the worst. He liked spending time working on songs with Nick and Kev again. He hadn't noticed how long it had been since he'd written anything, since he'd contributed anything besides his voice. And his incredible animal magnetism, obviously. He'd forgotten how much of a kick it was to see Nick and Kev get excited about something he'd suggested, to watch them build melodies and nasty riffs on top of his ideas. "Welcome back," Nick said one night when they were rehearsing for the new album and he was improvising the hell out of these new lyrics and they were so, so fucking _on_. Nick's hand curled around Joe's shoulder and he pulled him close to press their heads together, solid and real and both of them laughing, giddy with how much ass they were kicking. Stuff like that was pretty okay.

He got used to waking up next to Nick in the morning instead of some random chick. He got used to waking up not feeling achy and sick, wondering where he was or how he'd gotten there. Instead there was Nick, all flushed with sleep, his curls dark on the pillow, the covers he always hogged twisted around his legs. And Joe could remember the lyrics he and Nick had worked on the night before, and the stupid jokes Kevin had made, and what they'd eaten at 2am.

Sometimes Joe missed the excitement of not knowing, the mystery of blank spaces in his memory. A lot of times Joe missed the freedom of throwing himself blindly into the void, of giving himself up to it. But this morning the sun was warm, and he still had at least a third of the covers, and Nick was breathing soft and peaceful next to him with his mouth hanging half open. When Nick opened his eyes, there was nothing hard or angry there. It was soft and familiar and kind of proud. It made Joe feel like everything inside him was swelling up until it was all pressed against the inside of his skin, sort of tight and tickly. Nick smiled a little before his mouth stretched into a giant jaw cracking yawn.

This morning sober was kind of awesome.

 

 **1988**

Their mom died. Heart attack. There wasn't much to say about it. She was the only family they had, besides each other. Since they'd started touring, they'd only seen her a few times a year, but there was something incredibly different about not going home and not having a home to go to. Joe stood in front of the glossy coffin with the borderline gaudy spray of flowers dripping over its sides, and thought about the time he'd decided to sled down the stairs on her silver service. She'd been so mad. He hadn't felt bad about it at the time, taking his spanking with defiance because it wasn't his fault. Nick had said he couldn't, so what else was he supposed to do? Now he felt weirdly guilty for ruining that serving platter fifteen years ago.

He looked at the cross dangling under the preacher's collar while he prayed. Joe thought about dying. Thought about not dying.

They were back on tour a few days later, and Nick brought up the fact that people would start noticing they weren't aging soon. The Wizard had warned them about it. Never stay too long in one place, he'd said. Never stay long enough for someone to notice. He'd warned them about it the last three times they'd hung out actually, each time a little more insistently. Of course he'd also talked about cars that ran on vegetable oil or corn or something ridiculous the last time. It wasn't like he was always right about everything, so maybe he was wrong about this.

Except even Joe didn't really believe that.

Now that their mom was gone, they had nothing to keep them from disappearing. Nothing but the fact that it would mean giving up _Property of the Queen_. Which was the same as giving up everything. Everything that mattered anyway.

They kept talking about it, but all they did was talk.

 

 **1989**

The pyro was spouting fire in front of them. The lights were bright, hot. The amps were all turned up to eleven. Kev was wailing on both necks of his guitar, wailing like he had four hands. He leaned back to back with Randy, who was rockin' the keytar up above his head like an offering. The crowd was screaming, lifted to their feet, fists pounding the air. They were singing along. Joe held the mic out to them, his head thrown back. He could feel it thrumming through him. Every note, every thump of the drums, every explosion from the pyro. It pounded in him, pounded until his heart was beating the song, until he was breathing the cheers. He strutted. He growled. He danced, legs flying up above his head, mic stand in his hand, whirling. Nick was hunched over, twisting under the music, killing his solo. Joe slung his arm over Nick's shoulder, leaning into his sweaty shirt, feeling the flex of Nick's arm against the guitar, feeling the stretch of Nick's back against his skin. He watched Nick's fingers flashing over the strings, flying. He could feel it all the way down.

He closed his eyes, and sang. Sang until his voice started to shred. Sang encore after encore, and the crowd sang with him. Sang until there was nothing left to sing, and they still wanted more.

And then they stood there, the three of them, letting the noise wash over them. The screaming, the feet stomping, the lighters flickering in the air. Nick flung a guitar pick into the crowd. Joe pulled the sweaty headband from his head. He blinked away the blur of tears. Nick grabbed him by the back of the neck, and tugged him tight against Nick's side. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but Joe could see his own emotions echoed in the bob of Nick's adam's apple as he swallowed tightly. They were both smiling. Joe draped his arms around Kev, pulled him in close to the two of them. They stood there with the lights on them blinding, bright, hot. The crowd screaming for them, loving them. Kev waved. Joe tossed his headband out into the reaching hands. They leaned against each other, and tried to memorize this, every bit of this.

It was a perfect show. Or maybe it just seemed perfect because it was the last.

*

Going underground took a while. If they just fell off the face of the earth one day, Nick was afraid there'd be questions. It was the same objection he raised to Joe's awesome idea that they should fake their deaths. Nick said that'd just be unwanted attention, and they didn't need people sighting their supposedly dead selves at truck stops all over the country like a bunch of Heavy Metal Elvises. Joe thought _Property of the Queen_ sightings would be awesome. He was overruled. Like always.

Nick was probably right. They weren't the biggest band around, but "Africa" still made all the Best Metal Hits of the 80s lists. "Everlasting Life" was still playing on MTV. They still sold out their shows, even if the venues were smaller now that everything was _Guns N' Roses_ and those pussies in _Bon Jovi_ and those losers in- Okay, fuck it, _Metallica_ was awesome. They were still big enough that when they broke up, there would be some eyes on them. For a little while. They all knew how the business worked. As soon as you stopped running to keep up with fame, it left you behind. Sometimes even before you stopped running.

Once they'd been quiet for a while, they'd pull the disappearing act. New names. New lives. New clothes even. To be safe, Nick wanted them to split up for at least a year. Maybe more. They were more recognizable together. Nick wanted them to avoid playing any gigs, showing off at open mic nights, hell, he probably didn't even want them singing in the shower for at least a year or two. Luckily they still had money in the bank from their last tour because Joe really had no idea what Nick thought they were supposed to do if they couldn't make music. What other skills did they have? Joe's Baby-Sitter Certification wasn't exactly a career path.

"I can't believe we're sending Jimmy to that asshole, Bret Michaels," Joe said.

"It's a good job," Nick said. " _Poison_ 's doing really-"

"I know how they're _doing_ ," Joe said. Of course he knew, it stung like hell. He didn't mind so much getting his ass handed to him on the charts by Axl Rose. But seriously, those guys? "That doesn't mean they aren't assholes."

They'd tried to find their entire crew new jobs and make sure the rest of the guys in the band had somewhere to play. A lot of these guys had been with them since the beginning, and it just didn't seem right to leave them all in the lurch. It was kind of like trying to find good homes for thirty really big, sweaty, loud, drunk kittens. Jimmy and Kyle had been the last ones without a home. Joe really hated the idea of one of their guys in some second rate hack band, but a job was a job and most of them had families to feed.

"It's not just Jimmy," Joe said. "I can't believe we're leaving _rock music_ in the hands of fucking Bret Michaels." Joe groaned. "Rock music _needs_ us."

"If it's any consolation," The Wizard piped up from the couch, where he was riffing on Nick's guitar. "He goes bald." The Wizard usually made it out to one or two shows a month, but he'd been coming around more lately. Joe thought they were probably his version of free kittens to a good home. He was trying to make sure they all landed on their feet. Or trying to make sure they didn't fuck it up.

"Bald! Yes!" Joe grinned, and held out his hand for a high five. "Dude, you can see the future? You’ve been holding out on us! Tell me if I get-"

"Can't do it, bro," The Wizard interrupted. "There's a continuum thing. It's pretty heavy shit."

Joe shrugged, and tapped his fingers against his knee. Magic always had these stupid rules about all the stuff you couldn't do. It kind of took the fun out of the part where it was magic. "What about Kyle?" he said to Nick. "Did you hear anything from Benny about-"

"I'm working on it," Nick said.

"Next time will be easier," The Wizard said. "There's always more to lose the first time."

Joe wasn't sure if that was comforting or not.

*

This was it.

Joe had a plane ticket in his pocket. Kevin had a set of car keys to the sweet Mustang in the parking lot. Nick was spending the night in the hotel before he got on a train to Florida. Nick loved trains for some reason. Maybe the little sleeper compartments made him feel like he was a 19th century gentleman. Maybe after touring for six years he found it easier to sleep in a moving vehicle. Maybe he liked to see where he was up close instead of from 30,000 feet away. Whatever. Joe liked planes. They were faster, and the stewardesses were pretty, and if you sat in first class they brought you hot towels.

They were holed up in a hotel room with new clothes, a razor and a pair of scissors taking care of the very last detail.

"Do I have to?" Kevin stroked his moustache protectively. "I mean-" He talked through his fingers, rather than drop his hand. "Couldn't we just make one exception?"

"Are you _crying_?" Joe said in disbelief.

"No!" Kevin's hand was still hovering over his lip, fingers like a shield. "I have hair in my eye. Or pollen. Dust. I'm allergic to fruit." He sniffled. Joe rolled his eyes.

"Kevin." Nick held up the razor. "You know why."

"Stop being such a pansy," Joe said. "We all have to make sacrifices." He remembered the way his own hair had piled up on the floor around his feet, glossy and lustrous. Tragic, yes. But you didn't see him crying over it. He craned his neck, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. Luckily, he had the cheekbones to pull off a short cut. He smiled at himself. His face was so kickass.

"It's just- I grew it myself." Oh, Jesus. Was that a whimper?

"If you can't do it, I will." Joe snatched the razor out of Nick's fingers. Kevin closed his eyes, flinching when Joe spread the first dollop of shaving cream on his face. Joe hesitated with the razor in his hand, suddenly unwilling. Not because he had some weird love for the moustache like Kevin did. But because that moustache was the very last thing tying them to their old names, to their old lives, to the band. Tying them to each other.

Kevin's eyes slit back open. "What are you waiting for?" he said through gritted teeth. "Do it!" Joe looked at Nick in the mirror. He could see the heaviness of the moment in Nick's eyes, but his nod was firm. Joe made the first stroke across Kevin's upper lip.

Afterwards, they stood under the sterile brightness of the bathroom lights. Kevin's face looked a bit naked. He kept touching his upper lip gingerly, like he had to keep reminding himself it was gone. It was all gone. They huddled together, looking into the mirror at themselves, at each other, changed and unfamiliar.

Kevin was the one who moved first, who flicked the lights off and stepped outside. "Let's go have normal lives, boys," he said.

*

Sometimes before, when the bus got rank and claustrophobic and Joe was tired of tripping over Nick and Kev everywhere he turned. When he was tired of bickering over the same stupid shit every night, and he was tired of never having a week off. When even the music couldn't lift him, and the fans were just voices yelling. Sometimes he'd fantasized about walking away, from all of it, from them. Sometimes he'd thought about having space. Space to see how far he could stretch, how far he could reach if there was nothing to stop him.

Be careful what you wish for, right?

Nick told them not to go near LA or New York until people forgot, so Joe bummed around Chicago. He watched bad TV by day. The good thing about bad TV was that it didn't require any thought, any effort at all. It didn't require you to feel or to care. It made the hours disappear like magic. He picked up girls in bars by night. The bad thing about girls in bars was they weren't fans so they expected you to talk to them, tell them your life story. They expected you to call them back. They wanted like, a connection, a relationship. Joe was not interested in having relationships or telling made up life stories about people he wasn't but he was supposed to pretend to be to girls he wouldn't even be able to fuck properly if he had the chance.

Alone felt just as claustrophobic as the smallest bus. Starting over was supposed to make you free, wasn't it? You could do anything, be anything. But separated from the music, from Nick and Kevin, it was like he stopped existing. That was what he _was_. He made music. He did it with his brothers. Without that there was nothing. He fit into the lines they made around him. He knew he was supposed to be someone new. But the ring on his finger was the only thing he was sure of, the only thing he knew about himself anymore, and it just made everyone else, everyone normal, seem farther away. Unreachable.

He lasted four months.

When he showed up on Nick's doorstep, Nick didn't look surprised. It was raining a little, a thick, humid Florida drizzle that stopped and started every twenty minutes and brought Joe's curls to life. Joe's balance was wavering, and there was a bruise under his right eye from this stupid fight he'd gotten into. He didn't really remember the details. He'd been drunk off his ass. He was drunk now.

"Hey, little brother." Joe didn't look too close at Nick. He felt shitty enough about what a fucking failure he was. He didn't need to see it on Nick's face. Nick, who never failed at anything ever. Nick, who probably didn't need any of them to be amazing.

Nick didn't say anything, he just shook his head, a tiny little twist of a smile on his lips as he opened the door wide. Before he could step back to let Joe inside, Joe reached to catch him, pull him forward into his arms, hugging him hard. He held on for a long time. The funny thing was, Nick held on just as tight.

 **In the Meantime**

They'd been touring for so long, not touring took a lot of getting used to. It was weird going to sleep in the same bed every night, and having a real bathroom every morning. Not that Joe missed the bus exactly, or the constant diet of bad food, or living on just a few hours of sleep, always wired and running on half empty.

Mostly he just missed being onstage every night. There was nothing like standing under the lights with the crowd reaching out to you, hearing them screaming for you, singing with you. All of you rocking to the same beat. There was nothing like that massive wave of love roaring over you. Nothing like being onstage with his brothers, pushing themselves every night to put on a better show, to pull something amazing from their instruments, from their throats. There was nothing else like having all those eyes on him, like hitting the perfect high note, like knowing he was giving all those people something to remember, something incredible. All that music, all that love, all that adrenaline, it filled you up so full you forgot for a while that you were tired or hungry or half empty.

It helped knowing Nick felt it too, the loss. It didn't make the empty space where that life had been any less empty, but at least Joe wasn't alone in it anymore. At least they both knew what they'd had, what they'd been, what they'd lost. And why. At least there was Nick to remind Joe who he was when he started to feel like he wasn't anything anymore. Being alone with it had been worse.

It was still bad enough. For a while they were both pretty busy grieving, way too busy most days to do things like leave the house. Nick's place was right on the beach so sometimes they grieved out on the sand until they started to burn. Then they went inside and grieved in front of the TV for a while. It passed the time.

One morning Joe woke up on the porch, and the sun was coming up over the water, deep pink bleeding up into orange, setting the blue sky on fire, turning the water all bright and glittery gold.

Joe decided today was the day they would learn to surf.

They both sucked at it the first time they tried, falling everywhere, and coughing up half the Atlantic through their noses. Joe got bashed in the head with his board, and Nick was almost eaten by a shark. Anyway, Joe thought it was a shark. Nick said it was just a guy in a swim cap. Whatever, it was really hard and they both sucked. But when they flopped down together on the sand, completely exhausted, Joe felt like he was breathing for the first time in months. His skin was covered in goosebumps and his teeth were chattering and his body ached and his head might have been bleeding.

He felt really, really good.

Nick grinned over at him, all tan skin and white teeth. He shoved at Joe roughly with pickled fingers. The sand felt good squeezing between Joe's toes. The salt was sharp on his lips. The sun was bright, hot, burning away the chill of the water. Joe shoved Nick back, laughing.

He felt alive.

They went out on the water most days and pretty soon they were holding their own out there. Nick took it more seriously, getting that narrow, focused look as he paddled out. Joe always tried to splash him in the face when he got that look. Nick would count how many seconds he stood up for each time, and how many waves he rode, and how tall they were. He measured himself against yesterday, and he wasn't happy unless he did better today.

Joe just liked to paddle out as far he could stand. He liked the way the sun heated up his back, and how his legs felt chilled dangling off the board while he sat and waited for the next wave. Joe liked to try to take the really big ones that he had no chance of staying on. He kind of liked the rushing, violent swirl of crashing down, being sucked under, pulled down where the water was colder and the sun barely reached. He liked swimming back up to the light, his head breaking through the water, salt stinging in his eyes, and that first gasp of air rushing into his lungs.

*

They sat out on the porch most nights, staying up until the darkness started to lighten in that grayish pre-dawn way. They passed Nick's acoustic back and forth between them. Sometimes Kevin was there too, bringing his own guitar, the three of them harmonizing, building new melodies by the blue glow of the bug zapper.

It was different from before. When they'd been _Property of the Queen_ , they were thinking about the audience all the time. Even when they were just rehearsing or working on writing something new, they were always testing it for the stage, thinking about how it would sound blasting to the cheap seats. Before, everything they wrote, they tried to imagine the fans singing with them.

Now, it was just them.

Out on the porch, with just their voices and the guitar and the stars thickening as the night got deeper, Joe started to notice what they had instead of just what they were missing. There was something sort of freeing about being able to play with the music, tease it and laugh over it and find something new in it, without worrying about whether this could be a single, without thinking about where it would go on the set list. There was something pure about making music this way, something really true and close and personal. They weren't recording any of it. It was just for them. Sometimes Joe would look at Nick hunched over his guitar and feel kind of great, kind of amazed and awed and really pretty glad that he and Nick were the only people who were ever going to hear this.

*

Once Nick thought it was safe, or maybe once they couldn't stand staying away any longer, they started going out to shows. Local bands at dive bars, and small concerts, and crazy huge stadium shows, and outdoor festivals.

The first couple times it made Joe want to put his fist through a wall, or maybe get black out drunk. It was hard to be satisfied with singing for each other, to find that peace, when he was getting smacked in the face with everything he couldn't have. To be that close, to feel the thudding bass line, to feel the music rising up all around him. To be that close, and not be the one behind the mic. He ached with how badly he wanted to be the one behind the mic.

"You don't have to keep going," Nick said once, when Joe came home in an especially bad mood, stomping around and tripping over his own anger and knocking over the dirty dishes by the sink.

He couldn't decide if that would be worse or better. He loved music. He loved _live_ music. He'd missed being around it. He'd missed that excitement, the charged feeling in the air that brought the music more alive than it could ever be in a recording. He loved being _in_ the music like that. Even if he couldn't be the one making the music, he wanted to be in it. It was just- He really wanted to be the one making the music.

"Doesn't it kill you?" Joe said. "It should be us up there."

Nick shrugged. "It sucks, yeah." He grabbed Joe by the nape of the neck and shook him, his eyes all bright and glittery. "But, dude, all we have to do is wait it out. We can get that back. And when we do-" He grinned so wide. "We're gonna be ready. We're gonna be so amazing."

Joe could almost feel himself getting caught up in it, that jittery excitement in Nick's voice, the future that Nick could see so clearly. But. "It feels like- That's a long way away."

"I know." Nick leaned a little on his toes, leaned in close and Joe couldn't stop looking into his fever bright eyes like he could find what Nick was seeing there. "But we have time. We have all the time in the world. We just have to be patient."

"Yeah," Joe said doubtfully. He'd never been very good at patience or waiting. When he got bored it usually ended with him doing something stupid that ended badly. More stupid than normal even.

"You don't have to go," Nick said, settling back on his heels. "If it upsets you."

Nick's fingers were warm against Joe's neck, and he looked so fucking sure of everything. He looked like he was already so far ahead of Joe, like he was rushing off with all those plans spinning in his head.

"No," Joe said. "I want to come with you."

*

Joe had picked up smoking in rehab. Nick hated it, always coughing really pointedly if any of the smoke drifted in his direction. Joe wouldn't have called himself a smoker exactly. It usually took him at least a couple weeks to finish a pack since mostly he just smoked at clubs or when he didn't know what to do with his hands or when he wanted to pretend he was Humphrey Bogart. He didn't really need it, but he took a perverse joy in it despite Nick's disapproval. Or maybe because of it. He didn't get what Nick's problem was. It wasn't like it was going to kill him.

The next show they went to, Joe lit up a joint instead of his usual Marlboro. It took the edge off the ache. It softened things up just enough that Joe could get lost in the energy of the crowd and move with the music and enjoy it without wanting so much.

It just made it easier.

*

Joe was having the best time. The _best_. The music was throbbing through him so hard, every guitar riff sliding all the way down his spine, every thump of the drums pounding in his chest. He was moving against this pretty little red-headed girl, the two of them holed up in a booth in the back of the club.

She had these awesome freckles right across her cheeks, and these little light ones on the backs of her hands and on her shoulders. Her skin was pale, pale and Joe wanted to taste every single one of her freckles. He licked along her neck, his hands on her back underneath her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She pressed against him, breathing hard. They moved on the seat together, grinding against each other, moving with the thump and throb of the music.

He felt like he was cocooned inside this moment. Like there was nothing in the world but her skin and this thump, thump shaking him, and this slide into each other. He was going to count her freckles. He was going to count them as soon as he finished tasting her soft lips. Just as soon as he was done kissing, kissing her sweet, open mouth.

He was having the _best_ time.

*

 _Barney_ was the perfect show to watch stoned. Joe giggled to himself on the couch, swaying a little with the sing-song of the giant purple dinosaur. Joe loved purple. It was like, the greatest color. It was kind of like blue, but so much better. "Purple looks like it would taste the best of all the colors," Joe said. "More foods should be purple."

"Are any foods purple?" Nick said. He was sprawled out on the couch next to Joe, reading a magazine. A really boring one about sound boards or something. "Besides like, candy?"

"Berries or something?" Joe said. "I don't know. They should have purple mashed potatoes. I would eat that." Nick was laughing at him. Joe didn't really mind. He sat up a little, pointing at the TV to get Nick's attention. Nick was missing _everything_. "I love that blond girl. She's my favorite one. She's so much smarter than that boy with the dark hair. That kid is _slow_."

"Yeah," Nick said sarcastically. "She's a friggin' genius."

"Whatever." Joe sank back into the cushions. "You should watch this. It's totally filled with wisdom. I mean, I love you, man. You love me. Everything is one. The universe is one." Joe offered Nick a puff off his joint.

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're so high."

"Yeah." Joe smiled. It was pretty awesome.

"I thought you weren't going to-" Nick closed his magazine, but he still had his finger stuck in it to keep his place. "You know-"

"I honestly do not know." Joe stared at the remote in his hand. His fingers were so weird. They looked like little hot dogs.

Nick reopened his magazine and pretended to go back to reading. Joe could tell he was pretending because his eyes weren't moving. He said, "I thought you were gonna try to make that clean and sober thing stick this time." He kept his voice really casual, but Joe could tell he was faking.

"This is pot," Joe said. "It's totally different."

"How is it different?" Nick said.

"It doesn't make me horny." A little sharpness came into Joe's voice. He could feel his buzz sliding back as the bitterness poked through clear and hard-edged. "It doesn't make me run out and stick my dick somewhere it shouldn't be." He looked up, almost angry, but still feeling a little too thick and soft from the pot to quite get there. "That's why I can't drink, right?"

Nick looked at him for a long time, until Joe gave up on waiting for an answer and took another hit.

"Pot isn't even a real drug. It's not addictive," Joe said. "It's like coffee or something. But in reverse."

"Coffee is addictive," Nick said quietly. He took the joint from Joe's hand and sucked down a long pull. He let it out slow, the smoke streaming up from his mouth white and swirly. Joe watched it shift and shift until it disappeared. Nick handed the joint back. He leaned against Joe, his head propped up on the hard curve of Joe's shoulder, his body sagging, his eyes on the television. "Cabbage is purple," he said.

Joe smiled.

Purple was so awesome.

*

Nick bought Joe a glow in the dark Barney shirt for his birthday. Joe spent like two hours smoking and listening to music and staring at in the closet. It was so dark with just the glowiness of it on his chest for light. The clothes on the hangers smelled good and it got really warm and the air was heavy with weed. He liked the way the clothes brushed against his face. He turned his head back and forth so they would brush against his hair, his cheeks.

Nick found him asleep in there later. "I was looking everywhere for you," he said.

"I was right here." Joe grinned lazily. His face felt kind of weird and stretchy like it was made of rubber bands. He touched his cheek, pushing the skin up closer to his eye until his eye closed. "You should go hide," he said. "It's my turn to find you."

Nick sighed. "Just don't burn down the house," he said before he shut the door. Joe looked down at his shirt. He'd been in the dark so long, the glowiness was fading.

*

This week Nick was teaching himself the drums. Which was a lot more annoying than when he was teaching himself the keyboard or the bass or the banjo. Joe still didn't know what he thought he was going to do with banjo skills, but he supposed it was as good a way as any to kill time since they had plenty of that to kill. Nick seemed to have decided he was going to spend his immortality learning how to play every single instrument ever created. He disappeared every morning into what he was calling his studio, which was really just the room over the garage. He stayed there all day, playing until his calluses had calluses. They hardly ever went out to the bars to hear the local bands anymore, and when he did go half the time Nick didn't even tell Joe before he left. Nick never came with him when he went surfing. Hell, they hardly ever saw each other period. Sometimes Joe took him food to make sure he actually ate something once in a while. Whatever. Joe was glad he had a project if that was what made him happy. He was really dreading the inevitable violin screechings and ear piercing flute blastings and God knew what all, but he was trying to remember that this was Nick's house and it was Nick's life and it wasn't Nick's job to make sure Joe wasn't bored.

Joe decided he missed the banjo.

The banjo didn't make him feel like he was listening to the sound of himself slowly going insane the way this constant drumming did. It was like living inside a hangover, without the fun part where you got to drink first. The beat was pounding, pounding, pulsing against Joe's head, pushing at the base of his spine like it was trying to force a scream up through Joe's throat. It wouldn't have been so bad if Nick could sustain a beat, but he kept starting and stopping in this erratic way. It made it impossible for the noise to fade into the background.

Joe looked down at the sandwiches he was making and realized he'd accidentally put celery in Nick's tuna because that fucking, constant _banging_ was making it impossible to think. He threw down the knife he was holding in frustration, and then he threw back his head and yelled at the top of his lungs. Nick didn't ask what was wrong. But he probably couldn't hear Joe over the banging.

Joe grabbed his sandwich, and left the other unfinished one of the counter. He was not going to pick out the celery, or spread the tuna on the bread. If Nick wanted lunch he could put down those damn sticks and get it himself. On his way out, Joe slammed the door so hard the whole wall vibrated a little bit. The thumping stopped for a second so Joe knew Nick had heard him. A second later it started up again. Joe grabbed his surfboard and ran down the porch stairs. He could still hear the damn banging from the beach. Maybe someone would call the police or something. Maybe Joe would do it himself from the payphone on the dock down the way.

He ran for the water's edge with his board under his arm and let himself disappear into the chill of the water.

A couple hours later, he was calm as he walked back up onto the porch. He propped the board up on the wall, and roughly worked his hair over with a towel. His skin was tight with salt, and he felt loose and warm from the sun. He was a good tired, everything kind of soft and slow. The house seemed quiet. Joe slipped inside, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Nick was at the kitchen counter. He had a half eaten sandwich in his hand. There was a little pile of celery bits on the counter. Joe wondered if they were going to have a fight. He'd been itching for one earlier, but now he kind of hoped they could postpone it until tomorrow when the banging started up again and he wasn't feeling so lazy and sated. "Hey," Nick said. "Nice out?"

Joe nodded a little bit warily.

Nick looked up with his mouth mostly full. He talked around the food. "I called a guy about soundproofing the studio," he said casually.

"Yeah?" Joe raised an eyebrow. "Did someone make a noise complaint?"

"Not yet." Nick smiled. "I figure it's only a matter of time though." He crumpled up the paper towel he'd been using as a plate. "I'm gonna do the tuba next."

"Nick," Joe said a little desperately. "What the hell kind of show do you think we're going to be playing where a tube would ever be appropriate? Honestly?"

"I don't know," Nick said. "I think we could make a pretty kick ass polka record."

Joe gaped at him in horror for a second, before he saw the little smile Nick was fighting to hide. "You dick!" He threw his towel at Nick. Nick caught it easily with one hand, breaking into a shit-eating grin. "You have the worst sense of humor."

"We can't all fall back on sticking things up our noses."

"That is never not funny," Joe said.

"Oh yeah. That one time you got three blueberries stuck up there was hilarious." Joe ducked out of the way when Nick threw the towel back at his face. "Anyway, the doctors in the emergency room were laughing."

"No one appreciates my comedic genius," Joe said sadly.

"You are unappreciated in your own lifetime," Nick agreed just as sadly.

Joe grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the table, and crunched into it. "It's hard knowing you'll never get the chance to be appreciated posthumously."

Nick wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, that's really the hardest part." He tapped his ring against the counter behind him. "Want to go out tonight? Some girl is playing Barley's," Nick said. "Supposedly she can sing."

"Yeah," Joe nodded. "Yeah, that would be- Awesome." Nick ducked his head a little, nodding. Joe pushed off the counter. He hesitated, wanting to say thanks. Thanks for knowing I was going crazy. Thanks for giving a shit. Thanks for fixing it. For always fixing it. Instead he draped the towel over his shoulders and said, "I'll go get dressed." He was pretty sure Nick knew what he meant.

*

"She was the one," Kevin said. His face was mashed into the couch cushions so what he actually said was "Shme est eon." But Joe could tell what he meant. The thing was every girl Kevin dated was "the one." There had been three "ones" this year alone. So it was hard to muster up that much sympathy despite his obvious depression.

Nick was quietly plucking away at his new ukulele. Joe had given him that thing as a _joke_. It was not that funny actually, now that he had to listen to Nick playing it all the damn time. Nick raised his eyebrows, and Joe half shrugged. It wasn't that they didn't care about Kevin's romantic dramas. Well, okay, they didn't really care about his romantic dramas. But they did care that he was hurting. It was just, what did he think was going to happen? Long term relationships were different from fans or girls in bars or even girls in coffeehouses that you dated for a month. If you got into a long-term relationship, eventually the girl was going to wonder why you never fucked her. Kevin told all his girlfriends he was saving himself for marriage, which was fine for a while. But eventually the girl was going to wonder why you hadn't asked her to marry you. And then what?

There was also that little matter of their secret identities, these entire other lives they'd lived that they weren't allowed to talk about. Joe knew he wasn't really good at relationships and all that, even before, but he was pretty sure keeping secrets that huge was kind of a no-no.

Whatever. If Kevin wanted to keep putting himself through this that was his deal. Joe and Nick would be there for him every time, even if it was kind of his own retarded fault. That was what brothers were for. Joe leaned over from his chair to pat Kevin comfortingly on the back. He offered Kevin the rest of his joint. Kevin obviously needed it more than him. The stuff made Kevin completely paranoid, but then it made him fall asleep for like fourteen hours.

Joe was really looking forward to that part.

*

Joe thought Seattle was a shithole. The coffee was great, yes. But the weather was such a pain in the ass, rain and humidity all day every day. His hair went insane. He gave up on straightening it, letting it curl until he looked like a poodle.

He didn't really get grunge either. He liked it okay. He got why Nick thought it was so _important_ to musical development or whatever he said before they'd dragged their asses out here to follow the scene, but he couldn't understand why the singers just stood there in front of the mic, mumbling. Where was the flair? Where was the stagecraft?

Mosh pits on the other hand were outstanding. Joe bounced violently off an elbow and into a solid chest, pogo-ing on his toes, sweat flattening his hair to his head, his shirt to his skin. He pressed against bodies, and flailed against air, and breathed in sweat and fists and smoke and fucking flannel. And grinned.

When he fought his way out, Nick was waiting for him. He was tucked in a dark out of the way corner where he could watch the band without getting jostled around. He was probably taking notes on what the band was doing and the demographics of the crowd, and being Mr. Serious Music Businessman and missing out completely. Getting jostled around was the fun part! Joe sidled up to him and shook his sweaty hair, spattering Nick fondly.

Nick reached over and pushed Joe's hair out of his eyes, wrinkling up his nose in distaste. "You should be more careful." Nick tilted his chin over at the mosh pit. "Just because you're-" He held up his hand and wiggled his ring finger, "-doesn't mean you can't get stomped to death."

"It's fun," Joe said. "Do you remember fun, Nick?" He grabbed the water bottle Nick extended and took a long swig. "It's this thing where you smile," he said. "Sometimes you laugh."

"Yeah. Because getting shoved around is so much fun," Nick said, but Joe could see he was fighting not to grin. Joe could always tell.

"It's dancing!" Joe chugged more of the water, swiping at his forehead with the back of his wrist. "Are you scared to dance, Nicholas?"

"It's rugby to a beat," Nick said skeptically.

Joe shoved him with his shoulder. Nick shoved back. Joe finished his water, and tossed the empty bottle over into the crush of humanity in the center of the club. "Follow that bottle!" he yelled, watching it bounce off a big bald guy's head. "Oops." He grabbed Nick's hand and ducked back into the crowd, staying as far away from the big guy as possible just in case. Nick was right. Immortality didn't prevent ass kickings. Nick dragged backwards a little bit on Joe's arm, reluctant, but he didn't pull his hand free.

Joe was more aware of the elbows and knees around them with Nick bouncing beside him. He was careful to make sure they didn't fly too close to Nick's head. The two of them bounced and flailed their arms, bumping chest to chest against each other and shouting made up words along with the mumbly impossible to understand lyrics.

Nick was laughing, his head thrown all the way back, for once not in control. Joe slipped his arm over Nick's shoulder, and the lights from the stage strobed out onto them bright, hot. He could feel the music pounding up through the soles of his feet, pounding against him through Nick's hard ribs. It was like being on stage, almost. He looked up at the musicians in front of them, at the stage above them, so familiar and so far away. He looked at Nick beside him, laughing into his shoulder, sweating and bouncing.

For a moment he didn't even mind the fact that he was down here instead of up there.

*

Time had a way of slipping past, sneaky so you didn't even realize it was gone. That was why when people saw their little baby cousin graduating from high school they seemed shocked that it was possible. They suddenly winced, feeling their own age. You didn't feel old until you saw the time passing in the people around you.

Joe didn't feel the time passing for a long time. He looked the same in the mirror. Nick looked the same. Kevin, when he dropped by heartbroken by the latest love of his life, looked the same. The Wizard, when he jammed with them every now and then if he had a few days free from whatever wizardy things he did, looked the same. Really the same. Even his clothes never changed. Joe knew they were getting older on the inside, even if it didn't show. But he didn't feel it. He still felt like he was the kid in the mirror.

He didn't have a little baby cousin to watch graduate. He had a VH-1 _"Where Are They Now?"_ special. They weren't on it, thank God. He could just imagine the fit Nick would have thrown if their cover had been blown by VH-1 of all things. But there were guys they'd opened for, and guys who'd opened for them. Guys they'd hung out with on tour; guys they'd partied with. And they were all a bunch of 40 year olds. They had houses and kids and probably like, retirement plans or whatever. They were married. And some of them were going bald. And some of them were wearing their old leather, dressing like they were still 23. But the clothes didn't fit them anymore. They looked like someone's dad playing dress up.

Joe turned the show off. It was kind of gross.

He could see himself in the reflection of the TV. He didn't look like anyone's dad. He would never look like someone's dad. He wasn't old.

But time was passing.

*

"This is Sarah," Nick said. He had his arm around a pretty brunette. She had bright blue eyes, and one of those smiles that made it really hard not to smile back. She looked like just a girl to Joe, but he knew she was more than that because Nick hadn't shut up about her for weeks. He was leaning into her with his hip, staring at her with this look on his face like she was the best thing he'd ever seen. Joe had never seen Nick look at a woman like that. It was a little bit- Scary.

It was just that when Nick cared about things, he cared _so much_.

She held out her hand to shake, but Joe opened up his arms and enfolded them both in a giant hug. She laughed into his collarbone and lifted one arm to hug him back. It was a good hug, solid but not clingy. "I like this one," he said to Nick over her head. Nick beamed, goofy with happiness and caring so, so much.

When he stepped back, Joe looked at Nick's hand on her waist, at the ring glinting dull silver against the dark blue of her jeans and worried.

*

Joe was not jealous of Sarah. He wasn't. Just because Nick spent more nights at her place than he did at home. Just because he was taking her to shows when he heard about new bands instead of taking Joe. And teaching her to play the guitar. Just because they had like, matching jogging outfits and favorite restaurants together and Nick let her drive his car which he never, ever let Joe do. None of that made Joe jealous. Joe was perfectly happy that Nick was happy.

"I'm not jealous," he told Kevin.

"Sure you're not," Kevin said. Joe hated it when Kevin tried to pull off sarcasm.

"I'm just bored is all." He was not whining. That much.

Kevin sighed into the phone. "It's probably good for you guys to spend time apart anyway. Have real relationships. Everyone has to grow up some time."

"Not us," Joe said, a little heat coming into his voice. "Look in the mirror some time. We never do."

"You know what I mean," Kevin said. "Just. Go do something on your own. Get out of the house."

"Do something like what?" Joe said.

"Enter a wet t-shirt contest," Kevin said. "Walk someone's dog. Run a marathon. I don't know. Get a job or something. It's a big world, Joe."

"Fine," Joe said. And he did go out. The world didn't feel that big though. It felt pretty small really. Like about the shape of the stool he was sitting on at the bar, and just about the size of the shot glass he was staring into.

He thought about Nick finding him maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, passed out drunk. He thought about how Nick would freak. He'd have to come home then. He'd do that watchdog thing he did whenever Joe fucked up again. Probably. Joe always wondered a little where the line was, if there was a point where Nick would just stop picking him back up. He was pretty sure Nick would choose him, even over her. Probably. But that would be- That would be maybe the worst thing Joe'd ever done. If he did that.

He turned the glass in a slow circle, it felt smooth and cold against his fingers. He wanted it. He wanted to erase himself completely, disappear into that place where he didn't have to feel anything. He wanted to fall. He wanted Nick to catch him.

He listened to some jackass murdering a _Eurythmics_ song on the karaoke machine. He flipped the glass over and watched the whiskey soak into the napkin underneath it, turning the crisp whiteness to soggy gold, bleeding out onto the bar. He grabbed the mic when the jackass was done, and sang fucking _Def Leppard_ , and fuck Nick and fuck everything he'd ever said about being careful and about what was _prudent_. It was just karaoke, and there were only thirty people in this bar, and if Nick got to have a life of his own then Joe did too.

He was going to fucking _sing_.

*

They'd always had their roles to play. Nick was the boss. Kevin was the grown-up. Joe was the screw up. That was just how it worked. Joe fucked up. They picked up after him. Nick picked up after him. Joe thought everyone was pretty okay with that arrangement.

Then Nick fell apart.

*

When Nick came home from Sarah's for the last time he looked like he'd been shot or something. His face was all pale and sick, and he looked unsteady on his feet. He looked helpless and small and hurt, really bad hurt. He looked broken.

It was fucking terrifying.

Nick was the one who fixed things, not the one who broke.

"I'm going to bed," he said. His voice didn't shake, but it was so flat, like it wasn't even him. It was just someone who knew how to sound a little like him. Joe watched him disappear into his room, and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do if Nick wasn't okay in the morning.

*

Nick wasn't okay in the morning. Joe waited until it was mid-afternoon before he went into Nick's room. Joe didn't want to push him.

Nick was still wearing his clothes from last night. He was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, just lying still and staring dully at the wall. Joe put a bagel and Nick's coffee on the end table.

"I- Brought you breakfast," he said, just to say something. He reached over and felt Nick's forehead with the back of his hand like their mom used to do when they had the flu. Like what was wrong with Nick would be sitting in his skin the same as a fever. Like it was that simple.

"Nick," Joe said, tentative. "Do you want to-"

"Go away." Nick's voice was husky and thick. Kind of harsh. He didn't look at Joe when he said it. Joe stood there, not knowing what to do. He wanted to make Nick change out of his clothes. He wanted to at least make him get under the covers. But he wasn't a kid. He was a grown man, and he wanted to be left alone.

Joe left him alone.

Maybe all Nick needed was space. Maybe he was in there fixing himself.

*

When Nick didn't come out for three days except to go to the bathroom, Joe decided that was enough space. He'd had plenty of space by now.

"What am I supposed to do?" Joe asked Kevin over the phone. Kevin had experience with broken hearts. If anyone knew about getting dumped it was Kevin.

"Just let him be," Kevin said. "He'll come to you when he's ready."

That was easy for Kevin to say. He hadn't seen Nick's face, that weird blankness, that pale, crushed devastation. Nick wasn't just sad, he was all in pieces.

"He'll be fine," Kevin said.

Kevin was no help at all.

*

When things got scary, or started to suck bad, Joe's first thought was always how good a drink would be right about now. How good it would feel to just disappear into oblivion. He couldn't do that this time. He didn't get to screw this up.

It was too important. Nick was too important.

*

Nick had managed to change his shirt and take off his shoes. He still had on the same pants. When Joe opened the door, Nick rolled over so his back was to the door. "I'm not hungry," he said. Joe stared at his back; the way his shoulders hunched made him look so small. "Joe," Nick said when he didn't hear the door close. He rolled onto his back and tried to muster up a glare. "Leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving," Joe said. He climbed into the bed. Nick watched him out of the corner of his eye. Joe draped his left leg over Nick's legs and wrapped his arms as tight as he could around Nick's chest, squashing Nick's arm between them. Nick lay stiff and tense next to him for a long, long moment. It was like hugging a mannequin, and Joe started to wonder if this was a really stupid idea. Then Nick let out a shuddery breath that trembled against Joe's arms and stomach. He turned in Joe's arms, pressing his face into Joe's neck.

Nick shook against him, silent jerky little sobs. Joe could feel the wet tickle of Nick's eyelashes. He pet Nick's curls, cradling Nick's skull in his hand. Even that hard curve of bone felt fragile somehow. Joe's neck was wet. Tears slid into his hair. Nick didn't look up.

Joe slid his fingers through Nick's, lacing them together and closing his hand so their palms were pressed tight. Nick's ring was cold against Joe's skin. The rings never warmed with their body heat. They were always cold. Joe squeezed tighter against Nick's hand.

"You could-" He choked on it. "You could take it off." His voice lowered to a whisper. "If you wanted to. You don't have to wear it." Nick tensed, and Joe could feel him breathing, feel the rise of his chest against Joe's chest, feel the soft push of air against Joe's collarbone. This was the only way Joe could think to fix it. As long as they were wearing those rings, nothing could last. Nothing but the three of them. Everything else had to move, age, change. As long as they were wearing those rings, the three of them never would. If Nick gave up the ring it wouldn't be just the three of them anymore. The two of them. Alone together. Joe couldn't tell what he was hoping for. He tried not to let himself hope for anything. Whatever Nick needed to be okay. Whatever Nick wanted as long as he stopped hurting like this.

Nick shivered hard, all the way down his body, shook like he was breaking apart. His hand tightened to a fist in Joe's shirt, pulling like he was straining with something. Joe held on to him, just held on, until he looked up. His face was wet, and he blinked slow and dazed. His voice sounded cracked like it needed to be oiled.

"I'm keeping it," he said.

*

Even after Joe managed to get Nick moving, out of the bed and into the shower, even after he dragged him back into the world, Nick wasn't really better. Not all the way. Nick had always been a little bit too serious, but now he was a different kind of serious. It was sadder, quieter.

Joe couldn't stand it.

He bought Nick new instruments to learn. He dragged Nick to shows for everything from swing music to hip hop, looking for something that would interest Nick enough to make his eyes turn intense and glittery and focused. He made Nick roller blade and took him water skiing and to the tennis courts and the golf course. He teased him and beat him at every game, until Nick started to try, until Nick started to want to win again.

He constantly tried to make Nick laugh. He turned bad cartwheels, and he sang crazy stupid songs about everything, and he made up long ridiculous lies and stories that twisted and twisted until Nick smiled at him with all his teeth. If he could make Nick smile, he felt like he was doing his job. He didn't care what it took, he just wanted to make Nick laugh.

*

Joe chose Montana because it was what he thought of when he thought of the middle of nowhere. Nick hadn't argued with him when Joe said they were moving, but he stood outside the little house that the realtor had called "rustic" and looked up at the mountains rising all purple-blue into the sunset.

"Well," he said. "This is- Big." He looked at Joe with his eyebrow raised like, "What the hell?"

Joe just smiled and brought his guitar with him when they went to check out the bars. He put their name on the list for an open mic night and when Nick looked at him, startled, Joe handed him the guitar. "It's been long enough," he said. Nick looked a little skeptical, but Joe could see the way his hands were touching the strings. Like he missed them. "We're in the middle of nowhere," Joe said. "It's safe."

They played acoustic sets at every bar for 100 miles. They played stuff they'd written on the porch in Florida, and stuff they'd written in Seattle and California and Texas. They played rock and pop and jazz and sometimes Joe rapped really badly. They played country, a lot of country. This was Montana after all. They played things they didn't have names for. They played together, and people listened. It was only a few people, but they clapped along. They whistled and stomped their feet when Joe and Nick finished.

Nick spent a lot more time smiling.

*

Joe wondered if this was what getting old felt like. They were out at a bar. The music was decent. Nick was dancing like an idiot with a woman who had almost as few moves as he did. Joe was talking to several drunk women that had "Sure Thing" written all over them. Everything was exactly as it should be. Everything was exactly as it always was. It was the same kind of competent local band, and the same watered down drinks he couldn't have because Nick would shit, and it was the same girls he didn't really want to take home when the bathroom was so conveniently located 10 feet away.

Joe was bored.

It wasn't even 1 am, and Joe kind of wanted to go home. Joe kind of just wanted to be working on the keyboard lessons Nick had been giving him. Or maybe even call it an early night.

God, he hoped this didn't mean he was growing up.

*

"Do you ever think about breaking it?" Kevin said.

" _Breaking 2: Electric Boogaloo_?" Joe said. "I think about it all the time." He did a little half-hearted robot, grinning at Nick. "I'm still working on my head spins." Nick joined in with some vogue action, grinning back. Joe never got tired of seeing him grinning.

"Guys?" Kevin said.

"Kev?" Nick said.

"I mean, breaking _it_." He tapped his ring impatiently. "The _deal_." Oh. That. Joe shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting over at Kevin on the other side of the blanket. Canned music was blasting from the speakers between sets. It was Pat Benetar. Joe used to have a little bit of a crush on Pat Benetar. There were some girls over by the concessions stands dancing.

"Of course I've thought about it," Joe said. "I miss sex too, dude."

"That's not-" Kevin stopped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. It was getting kind of long and wild. And he had this strange little beard lately that ran along the bottom of his chin like the strap of a helmet. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what?" Nick said.

"It's just-" Kevin shook his head. "Kids. Family. I don't know."

"Is this about that girl?" Joe said. He wracked his brain for a name. "Jessica?"

"Elizabeth," Nick corrected off the angry twist of Kevin's lip.

"I knew it was one of those," Joe said. "The twins." Kevin looked at him blankly. "From _Sweet Valley High_?" Didn't anyone _read_ anymore? "Is this about her? Because dude, honestly." He propped himself up on his elbow. "You and girls, man." Joe trailed off shaking his head.

"Kind of," Kevin said. "I don't know." He rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes on the corner of the blanket. "I see guys with their kids on the street, and I think that's never going to be me, you know?"

It was so appropriate that Kevin had chosen Lilith Fair as the place to become a giant girl. "You know why people have kids, Kev?" Joe said. "So someone can take care of them when they get old. And remember them when they die. You're not going to have either of those problems."

"But do you ever think-" Kevin plucked at the grass, absently twisting the strands around his fingers.

"You really want to be a _dad_?" Joe said. God, Kevin and his biological clock. What the hell was wrong with him? "You really want to get _old_?"

"I don't know if I do," Kevin said. "I just don't like that I don't have a- A choice. I mean, don't you ever think about going back? Being you know, normal?"

Joe did not want to talk about this. He glanced over at Nick with a look that clearly said, "You deal with this, dude" and flopped down on his back. Of all the things he didn't want to talk about this was right at the top of the list. He tried not to think about it. About possibilities. This was not helping him not think about it.

"Of course we think about it," Nick said. "It wouldn't be a sacrifice if we weren't giving up something. But Kevin, we get to live forever."

"Yeah," Kevin said. He flicked the torn grass stems off his finger, and settled back on his elbows next to them. "Yeah, you're right." Nick reached over Joe to squeeze Kevin's shoulder.

"It's worth it, right?" Nick said.

"Yeah." Kevin smiled, but it didn't come easy. Joe could see the effort behind it.

*

Joe slouched down a little farther into his jacket, glad he had his sunglasses on. Not that he thought anyone was going to recognize him here. Good God, no. Most of these people hadn't even been born when he'd been a little bit famous. They probably didn't even know who _Iron Maiden_ was for fuck's sake. He was completely anonymous here, but he still felt the need to hide. Just picturing himself in this sea of twelve year old girls and reluctant parents and close circled packs of college girls and very occasional boys was mortifying.

"What are we doing here?" he hissed at Nick.

"Well," Nick said. "This is what people call a concert. A band gets up on the stage and then there's music."

"Smart ass."

"They aren't bad," Nick said. "I've heard them on the radio."

"They're teenybopper pop," Joe said dismissively.

And then the concert started. The first thing was the show was actually kind of amazing. Joe thought they'd put on a pretty good show back in the day, but holy shit this was like, a _production_. The pyro was ridiculous, shooting 100 feet in the air, creating a wall of fire behind the dancers. The stage was some gigantic complicated machine with hydraulics and moving parts all filled up with dancers and lights and huge screens bringing it all as close to the audience as it could get, even at the very back of the stadium, even at the very top. And yeah, the choreographed dance moves were pretty weak-ass. A real band wouldn't look like they were putting on a goddamn cheerleading show or something. A real band would have been playing their own instruments. But dude, there was wire work! And they were like, _flying_ over the audience! And the pyro! And the lights! All these tricks and explosions! The whole show was just exploding in Joe's eyes. He could feel his pulse picking up despite himself, could feel himself getting sucked in, starting to move to the music. He just- He had to respect it. Their voices were legit, and these boys were putting on a _show_.

Nick looked over at him, eyes shining, catching Joe dancing a little, leaning into the explosion of sparks from the front of the stage. His grin was pure "I told you so."

The second thing was the shrieking. Joe had never heard anything like it. They'd played some pretty big venues in their time, a few arenas, some outdoor festivals. It wasn't like he'd never experienced a crowd from the other side. But this was like nothing he'd ever heard before. A high pitched, sustained wailing that did not stop. It wasn't exactly a roar, it was more piercing than that. It got inside your head, and it just kept growing, echoing off the sides of the stadium, layering in on itself and growing. The girls around them cried and shook and screamed themselves hoarse. They half drowned out the music. They created this wave of something so loud and so intense and so into it. It was amazing. It was a little scary. It was right on the edge of exhilaration and annihilation.

Afterwards, Joe felt shell-shocked, shaky on his feet like he'd been through a war. That many girls, that devoted, that focused, that far over the edge of control. Insane.

"I feel like I just spent two hours at the gates of hell," Kevin said. "I'm completely deaf."

"What?" Joe said, cupping his ear theatrically. Kevin shook his head and punched him on the shoulder.

Joe looked at Nick, and he could see that big brain of his plotting, calculating demographics and ticket sales and adding up the numbers. It made Joe very, very nervous. "This," Nick said. He stopped walking and nodded once to himself.

"This?" Kevin looked around, eyebrows cocked.

"This." When Nick smiled it was devious and too smart and more than a little scary. It was the kind of smile he got when he was plotting world domination. "It happens in phases. By the time we're ready to come back out into the open, the timing will be perfect."

"You mean, us?" Kevin said incredulously. " _That_ this?"

"You want us to be a boy band?" Joe had never been more insulted in all his life.

"I want us to be huge," Nick said. "I want us to fill stadiums with our music."

" _Pop_ music," Kevin said doubtfully.

" _Our_ music," Nick said again. "We can't play the same kind of rock we used to play, guys. It would blow our cover."

"But this?" Kevin said.

"You have to be kidding!" Joe said. "We're fucking rock stars!" Several small girls gaped at him, and several of their parents glared. "Fuck off!" he yelled at them. God. What the hell was Nick _thinking_?

Nick shook his head, smiling a little. "Look at this place! Look at the size of it! Look at what they did up on that stage! Think about it, guys. They could be screaming for you."

"They're twelve year olds," Joe said bitterly. "What am I supposed to do with twelve year olds?"

"Sell them records," Nick said. "A lot of records."

He was still smiling that sort of evil genius smile. Joe could tell this was a done deal. They could argue about it some more, but when Nick wanted something he got it. And Nick had visions of sold out stadiums and platinum records and probably even creepy anatomically incorrect plastic dolls in his eyes. There was no way anything was stopping him, least of all Joe and Kevin and any rational objections they might have had to being turned into faces little girls had on their bedroom walls, their lunchboxes, their pillowcases.

It was no use. They were going to be pop stars.

 **Right About Now**

There were any number of things you could buy or do or have if you had enough money. And a wizard. Lots and lots of things. Some of those things included:

 **1\. A fake identity.**

"Why did you make me 19?" Joe asked, looking at his new driver's license. "I was 21. Before."

"Did you really think I was gonna make it easier for you to get alcohol?" Nick said.

"I've been sober for ten years!" Joe said. Nick raised his eyebrows. "I mean, not all in a row…"

Nick snorted.

Joe decided not to point out that high school students across the country found it pretty easy to get alcohol, and so could he if he wanted to. Instead he grinned. "At least I'm not the sixteen year old." He put sarcastic air quotes around the number sixteen. "Would you like to explain your thought process on that one?"

"I'm three years younger than you," Nick said, like that was a stupid question.

"Nobody knows that but us." Joe looked at Nick like that was a stupid answer. "You could have put anything."

Nick frowned sourly. "The best lies have a little truth to them."

"In other words, you didn't think of it until just now," Joe said cheerfully. "Enjoy the next two years of high school!"

 **2\. Fake family members.**

"Our mom is pretty hot," Joe said, tilting his head to get a good look at her.

"Gross, dude." Kevin paused in flat-ironing his hair, his horrified look reflected in the mirror.

"That's-" Nick shook his head. "Not cool, Joseph."

"She's not our actual mom," Joe pointed out. "She's just a lady we hired to pretend." He was mostly joking, but his eyes swept over the sweet curve of her hips. "A hot lady." It wasn't like he was going to do anything about it. It was just a fact.

"If you defile our fake mom…" Nick said. "I swear to God, dude."

"I'm not going to do anything," Joe said. Jesus. It was like they thought he was still a complete slut. It had been fifteen years since he'd- Okay, it had been like eight- Five. Whatever. He was not that dude anymore.

Nick held his finger up in warning like Joe hadn't even said anything. "It's different now than it was before. Everyone has a camera in their phone. There are gossip websites updating 24 hours a day." He had on his serious face. "We have a lot to hide."

"Also," Kevin added. "It's gross. Seriously, man. What is wrong with you?"

"Just because you're happy to be a eunuch doesn't mean I can't have a normal sex drive," Joe said. He was pouting a very tiny bit. But in a manly way.

"Off limits," Nick said sharply. "I'm not kidding."

"I _know_ ," Joe said. "Christ. I was never going to-" He threw up his hands. "It was a _joke_."

"We just- We have to be careful," Nick said. It was almost an apology.

 **3\. Fake photographic evidence of your family life and childhood.**

"I'm Kevin Jonas," Joe said, looking at a photoshopped mock-up of Kevin Age 15. "And I'd like to sell you a car."

 **4\. Magically enforced secrecy.**

"I don't know about this," Joe said. "I have doubts."

"They all signed the confidentiality agreement," Nick pointed out.

"Yeah, dude," The Wizard agreed. "This only goes into effect if they break the contract. It's totally righteous and stuff."

"I guess," Joe frowned. "It just seems a little bit harsh to me."

"Lots of people live perfectly rewarding lives as mutes," The Wizard said.

Kevin looked skeptical. "Big deal if they lose their voice. Won't they just send an e-mail to the tabloids?"

"Not exactly," The Wizard said.

"What happens if they try to send an e-mail?" Joe asked, kind of fascinated despite himself.

"Lots of people live perfectly rewarding lives as toads."

 **5\. A Brand New Life as a Teen Pop Star.**

*

It wasn't like they just showed up and the record deals came sailing in. It was starting over from scratch. They were nobody; they had to make the climb all over again. The only difference was this time they knew what they were doing. Or Nick seemed to know what he was doing anyway, and Joe trusted Nick to keep him informed of any really important developments. So Nick focused on making things happen, and Joe focused on making sure Nick didn't forget that this was supposed to be fun.

Nick made them practice like they were at pop star boot camp. They needed it. It had been years since they'd all played together on a regular basis, and it wasn't as easy as Joe thought it would be to fall back into the give and take of the three of them together. It was familiar, but not quite the same. They fit together differently now. Joe and Kevin had to make space for Nick to move from the drums to the piano to his guitar. So far, he hadn't pulled out the banjo, but Joe figured it was just a matter of time. Nick suggested they split the vocals on some of the songs, and Kevin pulled Joe aside.

"Are you okay with that, man?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Joe said.

"I mean, you're the singer," Kevin said. "It's kind of your territory."

Joe snorted, and clapped Kevin on the shoulder. "I'm still the frontman, dude. I don't care about keeping a running tally of which verses I do." Kevin played with his shoulder strap restlessly, that concerned dad look still on his face. "Besides," Joe said. "Nick and I sound awesome together."

Kevin's smile was kind of weird and fake looking, and Joe almost asked him if he had a problem with Nick himself or something. Kevin nodded briskly, his smile settling in more firmly. "Yeah. It sounds great." Joe didn't ask. It was just Kevin being weird. Kevin was weird a lot lately, like he'd changed sometime in the past ten years. Not in huge ways or anything, but it was like he didn't quite fit into their conversations, and he didn't quite get the jokes, and he was trying too hard all the time. Anyway, it wasn't like Kevin had anything to be pissed about. He was still lead guitar, exactly the same as before.

They'd all written songs in the last ten years, a lot of songs. But it wasn't as easy as combing through the notebook and picking out the best ones. This pop thing was different. They had to come up with a new sound that none of them had ever really played with before. The first stab they made at writing new material, Nick dismissed as "too 80s." Which Joe could only conclude meant that it was too awesome. The second stab they made was "unmarketable." Which Joe could only conclude meant it wasn't lame enough for twelve year olds. The third stab Joe told them in no uncertain terms he would not sing, not even if they pulled his fingernails off one by one. Eventually they snuck up on a sound that worked for everybody. Something they could all be proud of. And Joe was proud. It was more pop than their old sound, sure. But there was enough meat in there for him to sink his teeth into. The songs were good. He could hear these songs filling up an arena. He could hear the fans singing along.

They played dive clubs and high schools and Wal-mart parking lots. Anywhere people would let them. They spent a lot of time playing their hearts out for people who seriously did not give a shit, people who talked over them like they weren't there and people who left in the middle of their set. And that was when they were lucky enough to have people there at all. It was all very familiar. They'd been through this part before, and Joe hadn't really loved it the first time either. But sometimes there was someone out there you connected with. Someone who was actually listening. If they could get someone up on their feet or moving in their seat or bobbing their head. It didn't take much to remind them why they were doing this. All they needed was one someone who really heard them.

The first time Joe visited myspace he hated it. Its ugly, impossible to read layouts, and its alarming embedded music files, and all those kids making fools of themselves for the whole world to see. It made him feel old and irritable and two seconds away from yelling at some kids to get off his lawn. Joe hated it when anything made him feel old. But Nick was sure the Internet was their way in. Joe could tell Nick was right when they started getting responses to the songs they posted and the videos they made. People were actually listening, watching. They had fans again, even if there were like 400 of them. And then there were 1,000. And then there were 10,000. And then there were more than that.

Nick knew what he was doing. Joe was completely sure of that right up until Nick slid the contracts across the table. Joe hesitated with the pen in his hand, unsure for the first time if Nick was always right.

"Disney?" Joe said. "That sounds-" Horrifying. "Wholesome."

"You know it's going to mean…" Nick trailed off. "Well, it's just going to be even more important that you-" He nodded once, nudging his head forward, like he was expecting Joe to fill in the blank.

Joe stared at him. He wasn't going to fill in the blanks. He wanted Nick to say it.

"I mean, it's going to be really different…" Nick said. "From before. Touring and all that."

"Are you trying to tell me I can't get blowjobs from our twelve year old groupies?" Joe said. "Cause I figured that one out on my own. Thanks."

"I'm just saying, there are going to be some ground rules. Like no swearing," Nick said. He was staring right at Joe.

"What?" Joe said defensively. "Kevin swears too!"

"You have kind of a potty mouth," Kevin said.

"Whatever," Joe said. "You were screaming all sorts of shit the other day when we were on the 405."

"Those are extenuating circumstances," Kevin said. "The traffic is such a bitc-"

"Ha!" Joe pointed at Kevin with his eyebrows raised. "Potty mouth."

"Guys," Nick said. "The rules aren't just for Joe. They're for all of us." He was still looking at Joe though when he continued, ticking off the next thing on his fingers. "No drinking."

Joe sighed heavily like he couldn't believe he even had to dignify that. "I have been to rehab," he said. "Twice!"

"Uh, that's not really a good-" Kevin started.

"In fact!" Joe steamrolled over him. "I'm the only one here who hasn't had a beer in like, two years. So stop staring at me." He pushed Nick off balance with his elbow.

Nick nudged him back, continuing with his list like there hadn't been any interruption. "No drugs," Nick said. Joe rolled his eyes, and made a hurry up motion with his hand.

"No sex."

"Isn't that already a rule?" Joe said.

Nick squinched his mouth up and shook his head. "You're going to have to be more careful," he said. "There's a lot less leeway with Disney than you had with this thing." He touched his ring with his thumb.

"So what are you saying exactly?" Joe said. Not that he was planning to run out and try to get laid at every show or anything. But he liked to be prepared. Like a boyscout.

"Just-" Nick shrugged. "Don't take off your pants."

Joe squinted thoughtfully. "I guess I can work with that."

*

Opening for Hannah Montana was not exactly the tour Joe dreamed about when he was a kid dreaming about being on tour. He couldn't help feeling a little bit above it all as they went through rehearsals, as he watched the stage come together. It wasn't that Miley wasn't a perfectly nice kid. But she was a kid. This was a kiddie show. Joe was grateful and everything for the opportunity and the exposure, but it was just that the three of them were _rock stars_. Being on this tour made him feel old and jaded and kind of embarrassed.

He felt like that right up until they stepped out onstage in front of the crowd for the first time. Fifteen thousand fans screaming, the drums thudding behind him, the lights flashing bright. Nick singing beside him. Kevin spinning with his guitar in hand. All of a sudden it didn’t matter how old the people out there were, or even if they were just here to see Miley Cyrus do her thing. The music was pounding through him, and his mouth was wide open to sing. He took the mic stand in hand, and he strutted down the catwalk like he owned it. He did splits and he jumped like he could fly and he swung that mic stand like he could chop the world in half. He laughed at Kevin jumping off the second level, playing while he flew. He looked at Nick, fingers dancing across his guitar strings, his hair damp with sweat. Nick leaned over into Joe's mic, and they sang together, moving into the beat of their songs, songs that were theirs. Their voices layered on top of each other, rising above the screams, those high-pitched, piercing screams he remembered from the concerts they'd watched. It was overwhelming hearing it from the other side. Joe reached out into the shaky sea of hands, into the wild chaos-tinged sway of those girls loving them.

It was deafening.

It was beautiful.

*

Outside the arena, the screams were different. There was something unnerving about that kind of intensity when it wasn't contained by the music, when it was just out there in the world. Fighting through the crowds to their car, fighting through the screams, it felt less like it was raising them up and more like it was pushing against them. Crushing. The crowds got bigger, louder. The chaos that sat in that screaming seemed closer. They pressed together, Nick's shoulder against his, Kevin's hand on his back.

They pushed forward.

*

"I cannot _believe_ you," Nick said.

"What do you want me to do?" Kevin said. "Invent a time machine so I can go back and not say it? Well, I'm sorry, but I don't know how to invent a time machine!"

"I just-" Nick shook his head. "I'm just amazed."

"And disappointed," Joe suggested.

"Yes. Disappointed." Nick was talking in his daddy voice. The one he used when he thought Kevin and Joe were being idiots. Joe hated his daddy voice, but he hated it less when Nick used it on Kevin. Especially since he was pretty pissed at Kevin right now too. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"You're the one who says the best lies have a little bit of truth in them!" Kevin said.

"Maybe so," Nick said. "But not this time! These rings are not something we want people talking about!"

"You could have just said they were rings we got when we formed the band or something," Joe said. "It's bad enough being forced into celibacy without you running around _telling_ everyone."

"I said I was sorry!" Kevin said. "Jesus Christ! It was _one_ interview!"

Nick grimaced. "Except now they're going to ask about it in every single interview we do."

"Oh God," Joe said. "They're going to make us talk about being virgins." He grabbed Nick by the arm. "They're going to write articles where they call me a virgin. A nineteen year old virgin." He covered his horrified mouth with his hand. "I have never felt less like a man."

Nick rolled his eyes. "More importantly, there are some things we just don't want to draw attention to!"

"Like our dickle-" Joe said.

"More important than our dicklessness," Nick interrupted.

"It's not like it's something suspicious that's going to make people start going oh gee, do you think they could be immortal!" Kevin was flustered, cornered. "Purity rings are a thing! Nobody will even think twice about it."

"He's right," Joe said glumly. "They're not going to think we're immortal. They're just going to think we're like repressed and holier than thou and completely crap in the sack." He sighed.

"They're going to think we're good role models," Kevin said. "Which is what you wanted." He directed that part at Nick, since being a good role model was right at the bottom of the list of things Joe wanted to be remembered for.

Nick shook his head, his lips pressed together tight and disapproving. "We'll just have to make the best of it." He turned to Joe. "You know this makes it even more important that you-"

"Don't drink. Smoke. Do drugs. Or take off my pants." Joe saluted sarcastically. "Yeah. I know." Being a good role model was such balls.

*

"She's the one." Kevin was grinning like he'd just discovered the cure for syphilis. Behind him, Nick fought not to roll his eyes.

"Sure she is," Joe said sarcastically. "This week."

Kevin shook his head, waving away Joe's tone with his hand. "I'm serious, you guys."

"You're always serious," Nick said. "And she's never the one."

Kevin's jaw set stubbornly. "This time she is. Her name is Danielle, and I'm going to marry her."

"Kevin." Joe spoke slowly like he was talking to a disobedient goldfish. "Don't be stupid." He held up his hand. "You've already got a ring on that finger, dude." He felt like a dick when Kevin crumpled in on himself as if Joe had pushed him backward. It wasn't that he wanted to burst Kevin's bubble, but honestly, every time he fell in love his brain shut off and he forgot certain very basic facts. It had been like twenty years, when was he ever going to learn?

"I know," Kevin said. "But she's-" He choked on it a little, but that stubborn look was back in his eyes when he finished. "She's different."

*

Joe was going to be a movie star. Maybe it was just a straight to TV Disney movie, but Christ, it was a movie, and he was going to star in it. That was pretty much the definition of awesome right there. His face was going to be on millions of TV screens. There were going to be DVDs and posters and a soundtrack and dancing and oh shit, dancing? And actually the script was kind of long, and he was supposed to memorize it all, and he'd never really acted before, and holy crap, he was going to screw it up wasn't he? He was going to screw it up and it was going to be on DVD so people could rewind and pause him screwing it up forever and ever.

Jesus Christ, who had decided this was a good idea?

*

"Nick," Joe said. "Read these lines with me."

"Joe," Nick said. "I'm kind of busy." He held up the video game controller in his hand.

" _Nick._ "

" _Joe._ "

"Nicholas."

Nick sighed as if he was right in the middle of renegotiating their contracts, like Joe was asking him to give up an audience with the Queen and not to just pause his game of Halo for half an hour. Or two hours. Or whatever. Jesus. He paused the game and held his hand out for the script pages.

"Why don't you ask Kevin?" Nick said.

Joe sank down on the couch next to Nick. "I forget more stuff when I'm practicing with him."

"Please. You already have it all memorized," Nick said. "I read through the entire thing with you yesterday, and you knew all of it. Even the parts you weren't in. And thanks, by the way, for making me run through all the scenes where Mitchie talks about shopping with her girlfriends. Because that wasn't a waste of my valuable time at all."

"You loved it," Joe said. "You make a much cuter Mitchie than Kevin does." He batted his eyelashes furiously. "You really have a teenaged girline-"

Nick shoved him sideways into the arm of the couch, where he bounced off one of the pillows. Joe tried to get Nick in a headlock, but Nick was too fast, and Joe ended up with a face full of cushion pressing into his cheek and Nick twisting his arm behind his back. Joe squirmed. "You're not seriously going to make me read through that entire thing with you again, are you?" Nick leaned a little harder on his arm.

Joe managed to rip his arm free and roll over, using his knees to push Nick backwards. "I'm just trying to do a good job," he said. "It's- I mean, it's not just memorizing," Joe said. "I'm supposed to do- Acting and stuff."

Nick laughed a little, leaning, his whole body weight propped up on Joe's bent legs. He was pretty heavy.

"You shut up." Joe tried to kick Nick off, but he just sat backward and then sank down onto Joe's legs again, leaning and laughing like a jerk. "This is your fault anyway. This whole movie thing was your idea."

"It was Disney's idea," Nick said. "All I did was say yes."

"Well, maybe you should be doing it instead of me." Nick laughed harder. "Maybe you should have thought about the fact that I don't know what the hell I'm doing!"

Nick was laughing so hard his face had turned red, and his eyes were squinched closed. He shook helplessly against Joe's knees. Joe rolled his script up into a tube and whacked Nick across the top of his head with it. Nick collapsed onto his back on the sofa, and covered his eyes with his arm, shoulders still shaking. Joe leaned over to whack him again. Nick made a blind grab for the script.

"Quit it," he said.

"You quit it." Joe still had the script at the ready. "I don't see what's so funny about it," he muttered under his breath.

"It's just that you're really trying." Nick was still giggling a little.

"And that's funny?" Joe said. He was actually a little bit offended. Joe brandished the script, and Nick ducked.

"I didn't mean it like that," Nick said. "I just meant it's cute, how hard you're working at this."

"Cute?" Joe's voice rose. He was more than just a little bit offended now.

"Completely adorable," Nick said.

"I hate you."

"Yeah," Nick grinned. "I don't think you do."

"I do," Joe said. "You are my least favorite."

Nick did not seem convinced. "You're gonna be so good in the movie," Nick said. "10 million little girls are going to fall instantly in love with you."

"10 million little girls are already in love with me," Joe said, but he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "You think I'm gonna be good?"

"I think you're gonna be great." Nick grabbed his copy of the script off the table. "I can't wait until you have to start learning the dances."

"I hate you so much."

*

Demi Lovato was probably the coolest girl Joe had ever met. She had the cutest smile, wide, wide with all her teeth showing. And she had the shiniest hair. She got his jokes. She was never embarrassed to join in when he was doing stupid stuff even if it made her look silly. She laughed full out, hard and loud and unashamed. She wrote honest music, with edges that had to be polished down to make them smooth enough for twelve year olds. Her voice was pure rock and roll even when she was singing the most sugary pop song Disney could manufacture. She was fearless and funny and awesome. He thought sometimes about what her lips would taste like.

She was fifteen.

"At best, you're nineteen," Nick pointed out after he'd watched Joe and Demi doing their Sony and Cher routine. Which had devolved into the two of them elbowing and pinching each other until she had Joe's wrist trapped in an iron grip to keep it away from her ribcage, and he was squeezing her hand tight in his to keep it away from his sensitive belly. Nick didn't say it like he was judging. He just said it.

Nineteen was being kind, and they both knew it. At best Joe was twenty-one. That was when the clock had really stopped. At worst, he was in his forties. There were words for forty year old men who went around chasing after fifteen year old girls. They were the kinds of words you were court ordered to inform your neighbors about when you moved into the neighborhood. Words like "Convicted Sex Offender."

That didn't mean they couldn't hang out, it just meant he couldn't make a move. And he wouldn’t. He was not going to. They were just friends. She sent him pictures of random stuff on her phone, like what she had for breakfast or the giant spider she found in her bathtub. He tied her shoelaces together whenever he got a chance. They listened to heavy metal in his trailer with the volume turned up too loud, and sang along at the top of their lungs. He still thought about her lips a lot, and maybe he enjoyed hugging her a little more than he should have. It was just that she was so small and her arms were so strong around his waist and her hair was so soft under his chin.

He wasn't going to do anything about it. He wouldn't have even if he'd really been nineteen.

But when she leaned over on the couch in his trailer and kissed him right in the middle of the second verse of "Been Caught Stealing," he didn't stop her. Not right away. He knew right away that he _should_. But she tasted good, like the fruity gum she'd been chewing before. She tasted young, and sweet, and like the little pleased laugh in the back of her throat. Her lips were full and soft under his, wet and warm and open. She curled into him like a cat, climbing onto his lap, making a tiny half-broken sound into his mouth. Her hands were hot against his neck. Her skin felt amazing under his fingers, burning, and he just wanted to touch. He pet the length of her spine with long strokes. He just wanted to keep touching her.

He felt lazy, like she'd soaked all his bones in sunlight and turned him slow and liquid. He felt half drugged, like she was in his blood, like every time she moved against him he fell apart a little more. He just wanted to keep tasting her, the salt of her neck, the wet heat of her mouth, the hard exhales of her breath.

She pulled back panting, smiling, smiling so wide, her long hair messy and wild around her big eyes. And she was looking at him with this look. This crazy happy, _gone_ look that made him hurt inside, hurt so hard and deep it almost felt good. It made him want to bury his face in her neck and hold on to her, to never let go of her. It made him start to think about the future.

Except he didn't have a future. He had forever, all the time in the world, but he didn't have a future. Not like that. Never like that.

Her fingers slid through his, and he felt the cold pressure of his ring pinching against his skin. He held her away from him a little, his forehead tilted against hers, lips not meeting. "I can't," he whispered. It hurt his throat to say it. It hurt all the way down to his gut.

Her hair brushed against him feather light. Her lips were swollen, gloss smeared onto her cleft chin. She was so, so awesome.

She pulled back, confusion on her face. "Wait. What?"

"You're so-" Beautiful. Smart. Amazing. "Young."

"I date older guys all the time," she said. "I'm not some stupid kid."

"I know." He pushed his fingers through her hair where it was sticking up, smoothed it down. It was so soft. He didn't want to stop touching her. "But I just-" I want to. I want you. "I can't."

Nick found him an hour later, sitting alone in his trailer with the lights off. Nick knelt down in front of him, his hands braced on Joe's knees so he could see Joe's face. Joe tried to smile. It didn't really turn out right. Nick slid over next to him on the couch and pulled him sideways into a hug.

"I just- Really like her," Joe said. It was so ridiculously not enough to cover what he was actually feeling. It sounded so clean, and what he was feeling was not clean. It was ugly and sharp and it hurt. He kind of felt like he owed Kevin an apology all of a sudden for thinking his so-called love life was a running joke. It hurt um- Worse than he thought it would.

Nick held on tighter. "I know," he said, and he did. It helped a little, feeling Nick's arms strong and solid around him like he was holding Joe together. Like his arms could keep everything broken from moving around so much and cutting up all Joe's insides. It helped a little that Nick knew exactly everything Joe wasn't saying, that there was someone who knew.

"She's so awesome," Joe mumbled into Nick's neck.

She was so, so awesome. She didn't even let it affect their working relationship. Their friendship. She still laughed at his jokes, and joined in whenever he did stupid dances, and dropped by his trailer whenever she heard a new song she thought he should listen to. She didn't act like he'd broken her heart. Maybe he hadn't. That was- Good. She still smiled at him, wide, wide with all her teeth.

He kind of wished she weren't quite _so_ awesome.

It hurt sometimes to see her smile.

*

The fourth show of their headlining tour, Joe stood on the elevated platform when the lights went up during "Hello, Beautiful." He stared out into the crowd, all those people there to see them, just them. All those people there because they'd heard their music, because they wanted to get as close to the music as they could. The music the three of them had made. The fans, filling up every single seat, twenty thousand of them and they could have filled more seats if there'd been more to fill. The fans, singing along when he held up the mic. All those girls holding up their hands, holding up their handmade signs. All those girls screaming for them. Just them.

With the lights up, he could see every single one of them like they were all in this together. Twenty-thousand people all singing the same words. Twenty-thousand people, with their hearts thudding to the same beat.

He had to blink away the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to swallow hard to loosen his throat enough to let the song out. He turned to Nick before the lights went back down. Nick looked at him from his own podium. He shook his head, a tiny disbelieving movement, and then he broke into a big, beautiful, crooked grin. Joe laughed as the lights went back down, turning all those thousands of people into one voice, one voice screaming their names.

The three of them stood alone with the spotlights shining on them bright, hot in the dark.

*

After the tour, it was like Kevin disappeared. Of course they still had obligations, promo for the concert movie and the new TV show, new songs to record. It never stopped, and Kevin was always there when they were obligated. But without the tour holding them together on the bus, on the plane, he drifted off into this other place with Danielle.

"Are you… Okay?" Joe asked him one morning before they went into the studio to get some work done on the new album.

"Of course." Kevin was looking down at his guitar, tuning the D string.

"I mean," Joe tried again. "We don't really see you that much lately."

Kevin looked up, his brows raised. "Joe," he said. "We spent like ten hours in the studio together yesterday."

"I know," Joe said. "But after-"

Kevin blinked. "I'm more than just this band, you know."

"What?" Joe said.

"I need something else," Kevin said.

Joe stared at him. He felt like possibly they were having this conversation in Portuguese, and that was why the entire thing felt like it was flying over his head. "Like what?"

"Like Danielle," Kevin said. "Like someone who cares about me. Like… a life."

"We're your brothers," Joe said. "We care about you."

Kevin's mouth twisted, and he looked down at his guitar, plucking the D to test the pitch. "Yeah," he said. "I know you do."

"This is a life," Joe said. What the hell was Kevin even talking about? This was the life they'd dreamed about since they were kids. All of them, jamming together in the garage until their mom started banging pots together to get their attention and yelling at them to cool it, this was the life they'd talked about. They were living the dream.

"I'm fine, Joe." Kevin clapped him on the shoulder, and smiled.

Joe felt like he was missing something, but it was all Portuguese. This entire conversation was Portuguese. "Okay," he said finally. They worked on the new songs until after midnight. Kevin didn't stick around to join them at the Waffle House after.

*

They'd been a little bit popular before, a little bit famous. This was something else. They weren't just a band, they were like a multimedia conglomerate. This was so big it felt sometimes like they were sitting in the backseat of a car they weren't even driving. And the car was going 140 miles per hour. And maybe it was headed toward a cliff or something. Probably it wasn't, but it was hard to tell and there was no way to reach the brakes. When you were going that fast you didn't really get to see any of the scenery or anything, it all just turned into a blur.

Joe could handle it; he'd never had a problem with letting himself get swept up into the blur. But Nick? Nick was the one trying to steer the car. Nick was the only one who hadn't realized there was no real way to control it. He pushed them harder, he pushed himself harder, trying to catch up to it, to get in front of it.

Sometimes when Nick had every single minute of their day scheduled out, and Joe started to feel like there wasn't any room to even take a breath, he could kind of understand what Kevin meant about having a life outside the band. He didn't get how Kevin could just check out on them instead of helping Joe keep Nick from turning into a musical sweat shop machine, but whatever. Helping Nick lighten up had been Joe's job for years now. Joe didn't really need Kevin's help anyway.

*

They had two weeks off for the holidays before they had to play Times Square for New Year's. Joe hid Nick's phone to make sure he actually took the time off. There was a whole company just filled with people taking care of their career; the ever turning gears of the fame machine could spare Nick for two measly weeks.

"You stole it, didn't you?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Joe said. "And I'm not giving it back."

"Your kleptomania is really out of control."

"I only use my kleptomania for good," Joe said. He offered Nick a pudding pack.

Nick took it and grabbed a spoon, boosting himself up to sit on the kitchen counter. "This does not make up for the phone."

"Don't you feel better without it?" Joe said. "I've set you free!"

"I notice you still have _your_ phone," Nick said dryly.

"That's because I don't use my phone for anything business related," Joe said. "I use it for receiving texts from my friends, and sending them pictures of you when you're sleeping."

Joe had to hide his own phone after he caught Nick sneaking into his room and feeling around Joe's desk in the middle of the night.

"Just let me check my messages!" Nick said. "Just once!"

Joe did not relent. Sometimes tough love was necessary.

*

Nick bought Joe a motorcycle with a sidecar for Christmas. It was the exact thing Joe wanted. "How did you know?" Joe said. He had mentioned it during every interview they'd done for the past six months. He didn't really see the point of things like subtlety.

"I must be psychic," Nick said.

"What am I thinking now?" Joe said.

"That whatever present you got me isn't as cool as this?" Nick said. "It's not, is it?" He gloated. "I gave the best present. That means I win Christmas."

"You can't win Christmas, Nick."

"I think I just did," Nick smirked.

Joe frowned. "I think Santa is going to have something to say about this. Maybe Jesus too."

"Is what you got me this good?"

"I don't know," Joe said. "You tell me." He pinched Nick's sleeve between his fingers and pulled Nick back inside the house. He pointed to the box under the tree. It was moving a little bit.

"It's moving," Nick said dubiously.

"No, it's not," Joe said. They both stared at the box. It was obviously moving. Joe sighed. "Just open it before it chews its way out or something."

Nick inched over to the box with extreme caution. He pulled the top open, jerking back like a pansy. The puppy tumbled out, fat and furry and golden, his pink tongue lolling everywhere. He'd half eaten the bow Joe had tied around his neck.

"Joe?" Nick sounded completely bewildered.

"His name's Elvis." Joe smiled.

"He's a puppy."

"Nothing gets by you."

"Why is there a puppy named Elvis under the Christmas tree?"

"Because you wanted a dog." Sometimes for being the smartest, Nick was a little bit dense.

"I did not," Nick said. "I specifically said I wanted a new Les Paul."

"Yeah, I know what you _said_ you wanted. But this is what you actually wanted." Joe motioned expansively to the puppy, which was now trying to eat Nick's very expensive boots. "You're welcome."

Nick tried to kick the puppy off his shoe. "Joe," Nick said.

"Nick."

"We're not keeping this puppy." Elvis was undeterred, reaching up on his hind legs to paw at Nick's knee. He left a wet patch of slobber on Nick's jeans. Nick shoved him gently away again with his foot. "I'm not kidding."

Joe scooped Elvis off the floor, and held him up so Nick could get a good look at his fuzzy puppy face and his huge brown, puppy eyes. "Look at him," Joe said. "You're hurting his feelings, Nick." He pushed Elvis toward Nick, and Nick stepped back, putting his hands up defensively. Joe dumped the puppy into Nick's hands, forcing him to catch him or drop him. Nick held him uncertainly, stretched away from his body as far as he could reach.

"Joseph," he said warningly.

"Just look at him," Joe said.

"Guys?" Kevin called from the front door.

"We're in here," Joe yelled. Kevin tossed them each a wrapped package as he walked into the room. "How's Danielle?"

"Amazing," Kevin said. "She made me pancakes."

"Nick did not make me pancakes," Joe pouted. "You definitely don't win Christmas, Nick."

"Did Danielle get you a motorcycle?" Nick was still awkwardly holding Elvis away from him. The puppy squirmed in his hands, licking at his fingers. Nick looked at him with his face stern, but it was the kind of stern that really wanted to be a smile. Joe could tell.

"She didn't," Kevin said.

"Would you rather have pancakes?" Nick said to Joe. "Cause I can take the motorcycle back."

"No way. I'm going to ride cross-country on that thing like _Easy Rider_. You can come." He turned to Kev. "You can come too. There's probably room for both of you if Nick sits in your lap."

"Thanks," Kevin said dryly. "That sounds awesome."

"You still don't win Christmas," Joe said to Nick. "But you did beat Danielle."

"Kevin," Nick said a little desperately. "Would you like to hold this puppy?"

"I told you he wouldn't want it," Kevin said.

"He only thinks he doesn't," Joe said. "Give it time."

Nick gave up on handing Elvis off to Kevin and cradled the puppy against his chest with a scowl. His thumb moved over the soft hair on the top of Elvis's head. "We are not keeping this puppy." Elvis wiggled fat and furry against Nick's hands, burrowing between two of the buttons on Nick's flannel shirt, half disappearing into Nick's chest. "We are not," Nick said, trying to catch him before he wriggled all the way inside. "We're not." But the stern look had given way to the smile.

*

"I'm taking the motorcycle out for a test drive," Joe said that afternoon. "Want to come?"

Nick looked dubiously at the leather helmet and goggles Joe was wearing. The leather bomber jacket and the scarf.

"You look like Amelia Earhart," Nick pointed out.

"I know," Joe said. "Isn't it awesome?"

Nick shook his head. "So stylish." Joe handed him a white scarf of his own. "Isn't this how Isadora Duncan died?" Nick muttered, but he wrapped the scarf around his neck a few times.

Joe revved the engine.

"Where are we going?" Nick yelled over the roar.

"The Bermuda triangle," Joe yelled back.

"I hear it's lovely this time of year!"

The wind whipped around their heads, and the motorcycle vibrated through Joe's body so hard he could hear his arms humming like tuning forks for half an hour after they got home. Nick waved to the staring drivers who passed them as they roared down the street at upwards of thirty-five miles per hour. The girl at the McDonald's drive-thru looked at them like she was pretty sure she was on candid camera. The next day there were pictures on TMZ. Joe printed them out and put them all over the refrigerator.

*

By the time Nick came back from taking Elvis on his first walk, Joe could see he was in love. He was telling the puppy the story of how _Fleetwood Mac_ broke up. Elvis was hurrying on fat furry legs to keep up with him, his little puppy face tipped up like he was listening. He flopped down on his stomach, tripping over his own feet, or just giving up on walking, Joe wasn't sure which. Nick scooped him up with one hand, tucking him in against Nick's arm, pressed against Nick's side. Elvis licked Nick's hand, and half fell asleep. Nick smiled, all blissed out and smitten and not stressed out for once.

Joe grinned. He totally won Christmas.

*

The Grammys were unbelievable. When they'd been _Property of the Queen_ they'd never even been invited, much less nominated, much less asked to perform with Stevie Fucking Wonder. This was one of those things Joe had definitely dreamed about when he was a little kid dreaming about going on tour. It was also one of those things he'd never, ever in a million years thought would happen.

Joe tried to make his bow tie turn into a bow, but his hands were a little shaky and he couldn't stop thinking of the words to "Hungry Like the Wolf" instead of the actual songs they were going to sing. The stupid tie kept turning out lopsided. Joe didn't really get stage fight. Even when they'd first started out, he'd always loved it too much to be afraid of it. But this felt different somehow. It wasn't that he was scared or anything. But man, he really, really hoped he wasn't going to mess this up.

Nick reached over and grabbed the ends of Joe's tie, pulling him forward until Joe was standing in front of him. Nick's fingers were quick, doing something complicated involving loops and then other loops. He straightened the tie out a little when he was done, fussing, before he turned Joe to the mirror so he could see.

"Wow," Joe said. "We're incredibly good looking."

"Too bad Stevie won't be able to see how good looking we are," Nick agreed.

Joe looked at Nick in the mirror, shocked, before he burst out laughing so hard he had to bend down over the sink to brace himself. Nick whacked him on the back, hard like he was trying to dislodge something from Joe's throat. Joe wiped the tears out of the corners of his eyes, and tried to take a breath. He looked at Nick laughing in the mirror, and he looked at how straight and awesome his bowtie was, and he knew he had nothing to worry about.

*

Their World Tour was going to be bigger than any tour they'd ever done before. The new album was almost done. The stage was completely sick. Every show was sold out. The weeks before when they were getting all the details finalized, all the costumes chosen and the last of the crew hired and all the flatirons packed, Joe could barely sit still. He broke a ridiculous number of lamps trying to do flips off the couch, and Kevin kept asking him how old he was, and even Nick told him to cool it after he broke the coffee table with his tailbone and ended up with a really amazing bruise over like half his back.

He couldn't help it though. He was jittery and excited and overflowing. They'd been so busy with TV shows and promoting the movie and all that stuff lately. Some of it was fun, and some of it was just exhausting, but none of it was really making music.

Joe was ready to get back to the music.

*

Kevin brought Danielle on tour. They had separate rooms because you never knew if TMZ might get their hands on your hotel reservations or something. But she was there at every show. She was there all the time. It was weird. This was a tour, not a honeymoon.

"Sometimes I don't really get Kevin at all," Joe said.

"What's there to get?" Nick said.

"I don't know-" Joe said. "This thing with Danielle."

"Worried about what he's going to do when they break up?"

"What if they don't?" Joe said.

Nick looked up, curious. "What? You think she's really the mythical one?"

It was definitely the longest Kevin had ever gone without a break-up. Either he was finally starting to get the hang of being around women, or Danielle actually liked him as much as he liked her. "I mean, what if she is?" Joe said.

"You know it doesn't matter."

"It- Should though. Shouldn’t it?"

"Eventually this is going to end," Nick said. "All of this. _The Jonas Brothers._ Everything. Just like it ended before. You know it. I know it. He knows it even if he likes to pretend it's not true. No matter how great Danielle is, or how much he loves her. There's a clock ticking."

*

"Joe!" Nick yelled. He came running out of the bathroom, skidding around the corner like a herd of elephants. It was too darn early for elephants.

"Sleeping," Joe mumbled into his pillow.

"Get up!" Nick yanked the pillow away, and Joe's face bounced off the mattress.

"Ow," he said.

Nick was rough as he pushed him over onto his back. "Joe!" His fingers were painfully tight on Joe's shoulder, but it was the panic in his voice that dragged Joe's eyes open.

"This better be…" He trailed off. Nick was staring at him, his hair damp from the shower, a towel still draped over his shoulders. A bit of gray threaded through his curls at the temples. There were lines around the corners of his eyes, at the sides of his mouth. He was a little softer around the middle. A little broader in the shoulders. He looked handsome. Distinguished. He looked forty-five. "Holy Shit!" Joe said, sitting up so quickly he got dizzy.

Nick pressed his fingers to the corners of Joe's eyes. He touched Joe's hair like he expected it to bite his fingers. Joe pressed his own fingers to the sides of his mouth.

"It happened to me too." It wasn't a question. Joe grabbed for his glasses on the end table, but when he put them on, everything was still blurry.

"Oh my God," he said. "I'm blind!"

Nick pulled the glasses off his nose. "You're um- Vision changes when you age. You probably need bifocals or something."

Joe cringed. Oh wow. That sounded really horrible. Come to think of it, his back was kind of achy. And when he slid off the bed, his knees made all these terrifying creaking and popping noises. "I'm old," he said blankly.

They stared at each other. "What-" Nick started. His mouth stayed open, but no words came out.

"We have to find The Wizard." Joe looked around for his cell phone, half blind. He found it in yesterday's pants, the ones he'd tossed over the closest chair.

"Joe-" Nick's voice was strangled. Joe stopped dialing when Nick's hand came down on his wrist. "Did you- You didn't-" He stopped, inarticulate. That was so, so unlike him. Nick forced Joe's hand up, staring at his fingers. Joe stared at them too, not sure at first what Nick was even looking at. His hand didn't look that old. Maybe his fingers were a little wider, the hair- Nick held up his own free hand. His left hand. There was a white tan line on his empty ring finger. Joe looked at his own hand. His ring was gone too. He never took that thing off. Not ever. How could it be gone?

"You didn't-" Nick stopped, his voice growing thin like his throat had just shut down, closed.

Joe jerked his wrist out of his Nick's hand. "No!" he said. "I didn't break the deal. Christ! It's been twenty-five years. And you think I would-" He stopped, feeling too betrayed to continue. Maybe he should have just slept around. If they all thought he was going to do it anyway. If they were so sure he was going to fuck it up for them.

Nick shook his head. "No, I didn't-" He took a shaky breath. "I didn't really think you would. But someone…"

"Kevin?" Joe said.

"If it wasn't you, and it wasn't me," Nick said grimly.

"Maybe it just happened," Joe said. "Maybe sometimes magic just stops working." He didn't really believe it, but he didn't like to think that it could be possible. That Kevin could really do that to them. He knew how Kevin felt about Danielle. But Kevin had never- Kevin would never-

The door to their hotel room creaked open, and they both turned. Kevin stood there fully dressed. Vest, boots, the whole nine. His graying hair was neat, not a strand out of place. He hesitated in the doorway like the last thing he wanted to do was step inside. There was no surprise on his face.

Joe knew before he said a word.

*

The Wizard winked into the room with a loud popping noise like 50 champagne corks being pulled out at the same time. "This better be an actual emergency," he said. "You can't just text me 911 and expect-" He stopped abruptly when he got a good look at them. "Oh." He turned to Joe and cocked his head sympathetically. "I always had a feeling you wouldn't be able to hold out forever."

Joe threw up his hands. "Why does everyone assume it was me?"

"It wasn't?" The Wizard said.

"No!" Joe said. "Unlike some people in this room, I am familiar with a little thing called self-control!" It was a sign of how pissed Nick was that he didn't even call Joe on that one with a raised eyebrow or anything.

"Who was it then?" The Wizard said. He still sounded way too shocked that it hadn't been Joe. It was kind of insulting. "Nick?"

Nick shook his head, his jaw flexing. He was standing with his back pointedly to Kevin, refusing to even look at him. The angry dad look was even worse somehow now that Nick looked like an actual dad. Kevin sat miserably on the edge of the bed with his head drooping on his bent shoulders. Joe pointed at him, and he hunched even more miserably in on himself. The Wizard's eyebrows rose. "I did not see that one coming."

"Neither did we," Nick said, the words clipped. "Since Kevin never bothered to tell us he was considering ruining our career. Our lives-" He stopped, his voice so choked with rage he couldn't push the words out.

"It's not like I planned it," Kevin said. "Not exactly." Not exactly? What did that even mean?

"There has to be a way to fix this," Nick said to The Wizard.

The Wizard shook his head. "It's not that simple."

"We have a show tomorrow!" Nick said. "We're in the middle of a world tour here!"

"Dude." The Wizard shrugged helplessly. "The universe doesn't really care about stuff like that. There are rules."

"There has to be a loophole or something," Nick said. "We have to undo it."

"I don't want to undo it," Kevin broke in, his voice loud and forced. Nick turned on him, finally looking him the face. Kevin lifted his chin defiantly. "I don't want to fix it."

"He's _in love_ ," Nick said to The Wizard, disdain dripping from the words.

"You know what?" Kevin said, half rising off the bed. "I am! It's not a goddamn joke! You don't even know what it feels like."

Joe saw Nick's eyes go narrow, and he leaned to press his shoulder against Nick's shoulder. Kevin hadn't seen the look on Nick's face when he came home from Sarah's. Kevin hadn't been there. Kevin didn't know.

"Kevin," Nick said, his voice cold as stone. "What do you think Danielle is going to do when she finds out the truth?"

"She already knows." Kevin's hands clenched by his sides, and he hesitated like he couldn't decide if he wanted to step forward or sit back down.

"You told her about us?" Nick said, appalled.

"I trust her." Kevin sank down onto the bed, his voice going softer, the anger curling out of his spine, replaced with something less sure.

"Even if she knows about what we were. You really think she'll be able to deal with _this_?" Joe flailed at Kevin's receding hairline. At the softness around his waist. At the lines on his face. "You look like you could be her dad! You really think she's not going to freak out?"

"I trust her." Kevin's voice was calmer now.

"You told her everything," Nick muttered under his breath. "But not one word to us. When you were playing with _our_ lives."

"I was going to tell you," Kevin said. "I didn't- I didn't plan for it happen _now_. It just- It kind of just did."

"You've obviously been thinking about it for a while." Joe looked at Kevin's hands twisting in his lap. "I don't understand why you wouldn't say anything to us."

Kevin touched the empty space on his ring finger with his thumb. "I knew you guys would try to talk me out of it."

"Yeah," Nick said. "We would have. Because it's a fucking disaster!"

"I didn't know this exact thing would happen," Kevin quietly. "I was hoping it would be more like restarting where we left off. So we could just age normally." He looked at Joe, and his shoulder rose helplessly. "I just wanted to be normal."

It was weird how Joe thought about Demi then. Not being with her exactly, just the way she'd made him feel for a second, like he could see a whole different kind of life for himself. A future. The kind of future that other people got to have, the kind that wasn't just time. Possibilities. He could see it in Kevin's face. All those things Joe tried not to ever think about. Joe felt, for a minute, vaguely guilty. For getting it. For seeing maybe why Kevin had done it. For wondering maybe if he was glad Kevin had.

"What's so great about normal?" Nick said.

"Nothing," Kevin said. "I don't- It's not better. It's just what I want. "

Nick looked at Kevin with such disgust, Joe didn't know how Kevin could stand it. How could he just sit there with Nick looking at him like that? "This isn't just about you, and what you want. It's all of us! It wasn't your decision to make!

Kevin held up his hand, a kind of shield. "I'm not saying what I did was right. I'm just saying, I had to. I _had_ to. I can't lose her."

"Kevin-" Joe started to reach for his brother's shoulder, to offer him a pat, a squeeze, something. But he caught Nick's gaze and stopped, his hand awkward in the air.

"You'd rather lose us?" Nick said.

"I'd rather not lose either."

"Well, you're going to. Because we're going to get it back." Nick's voice cut, sharp and deep. "You're going to die. We aren't."

"Nick!" Joe said. He was still their brother. Jesus.

"It's the truth," Nick said. "He should hear it."

"You don't even know if we can get it back," Joe said. _You didn't even ask me what I wanted._

Nick turned his back on Kevin, and focused his sharp eyes on The Wizard. It was so weird seeing those familiar expressions on Nick's face, when Nick's face was so different. So familiar and so completely alien. "Is there a way?"

The Wizard tapped his staff thoughtfully against the ground. "The truth is, if you were anybody else, I'd say you're on your own, dudes. A deal's a deal. But-" Nick's eyes narrowed at the but. "You guys are really famous," The Wizard said. "If you all just suddenly disappeared, it could be a problem for the rest of us. There are more people than just you and me who share our-" He shrugged. "-unique condition. Publicity isn't something we want. Besides," he softened, "I love you guys. You know that."

"So let's fix it," Nick said. "Just take us back to Africa or whatever. Like you did before."

"You only get in the easy way once." The Wizard studied them for a long moment, his eyes lost under his bushy brows. His hand twisted on the staff. "But if you prove to them that you're worthy, they'll give you the do-over. It's a test. It's- Not easy."

"I don't care about easy," Nick said. "I care about possible."

"There are other options," The Wizard said. "I could do something to hide it." He waved his hand vaguely at their faces. "A kind of mask. You'd be your actual age on the inside, but on the outside you'd look like you did before, and you'd age normally. All of you together."

"We'd die normally too," Nick said. "Not good enough. We want it fixed." He turned to look at Joe. "Right?" he said. Joe could see how badly Nick wanted this. Could see how badly he needed Joe to be there for him the way Kevin hadn't been. He wanted to be what Nick needed, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

*

The Wizard gave them two weeks to decide. After that he said there was no way to repair the broken contract. Nick refused to even discuss it with Kevin in the room. "He's already made his decision," he said. It wasn't that Joe disagreed exactly, but the look on Kevin's face when they sent him away made Joe feel another vague spark of guilt even though Kevin was the one who'd done the betraying.

"Joe," Nick said when they were alone. He sat down next to Joe on the bed and took a deep breath. Joe could hear him fighting not to be angry, or at least not to let it out. He kept his voice gentle. It was so weird looking at him, the way his face was sort of a different shape. Almost the same, but not. Joe looked down. "Just- Tell me."

"I don't-" Joe said. He didn't know how to talk about it. He wasn't even sure what he wanted. "It's just we can't be _The Jonas Brothers_ without Kevin." Nick opened his mouth to protest, but Joe shook his head. "If The Wizard can hide how we look, no one would know the difference. We could keep the band." He looked up cautiously. "Do you really want it to be over?"

"Do you really want to get on stage every night with your knees creaking and your back aching?" Nick said.

"Mick Jagger does it," Joe said. "And he's like 80."

"No matter how young The Wizard makes us look, we'll still be like this on the inside." Nick looked down at himself with a curl on his lip. "We'll still be dead in forty years. If we're lucky."

It was true. Joe could barely look at Nick, look at how old he was. He'd been careful not to look in the mirror when he took his shower. He didn't want to see the age on his own face. He didn't want to be old. He didn't want to get even older than this, every minute older. "But-" Joe shook his head. "People are supposed to go forward." He looked down at his hands.

Nick touched his knee lightly, and then more firmly, his fingers strong and solid. "Tell me."

"What are we going to do?" Joe said. "We're more famous now than we ever were before and that was ten years, fifteen years, we spent hiding. How long would it be this time?" He carefully kept his eyes on Nick's fingers. "I don't know if I can do it again. I don't know if I-" His voice broke, and Nick reached over, pulling him close with a hand on his head, a bent elbow against his back. "I know it's less time," Joe said. "But there's more than just time. Living is- The future is- It's not- Don't you-" Joe stopped helplessly.

"Of course I do." Nick's voice broke. "You know I do. I won't-" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I won't ask you to- If this is-" Nick looked at him, he looked so hard it was all Joe could do not to flinch. "Is this what you want?"

"I think-" Joe didn't want to disappoint Nick, he never wanted to disappoint Nick. But he thought about going underground. He thought about losing Kevin, losing the music, losing everything they'd worked for. He thought about giving up everything all over again, and time wasn't enough. It wasn't a fair trade, not for everything. "Yeah."

"Okay." Nick leaned his head against Joe's solid and steady. "Okay."

*

Having new faces meant they could go outside whenever they felt like it without people sticking cameras in front of them or screaming or freaking out like they weren't even really people. Joe felt like a secret agent when he and Nick went to lunch, like they were pulling something over on everyone just by ordering chicken fingers in public. It was kind of cool as long as Joe didn't actually catch a glimpse of his own reflection in the window, in his spoon.

Nick spent what seemed like three days staring at himself in the mirror. He mapped every line and every gray hair. He studied every inch of his face, of his body like he was determined to make it familiar, to force some kind of recognition so he would stop expecting something else. He tried to do the same thing with Joe, staring at him, touching Joe's hair and the lines on his neck and the way his knee bent a little oddly now until Joe felt like he was being dissected. When Joe woke up one morning to find Nick staring intently into his wrinkles like he was memorizing them, he threatened to get his own room.

Joe preferred to ignore it as much as possible, to avoid his own eyes in the mirror. Every time he did look, it sent a jolt of alarm like seeing a stranger walking around your house. He knew it was him. He knew it was Nick. He knew it, but deeper than knowing, it refused to click. It felt wrong.

Joe tried not to dwell on it. Joe spent like three days doing his best to make up for twenty five years of celibacy. It was harder to pick girls up now that he wasn't young. Or famous. But he was still damn good looking for an old guy. And he was rich. Being rich helped.

Joe forced Nick to let Kevin back in, to start talking to him again. It was awkward. Joe figured it would eventually get better. Once they got back on stage together, he was sure most of this stuff would fall away. Or some of it anyway. Joe was pretty sure once they got back on stage it would be fine.

*

There was something wrong with Nick. At first Joe thought it was just because they were old, like how Joe had to get the prescription changed for his glasses and his right knee twinged whenever he tried to climb stairs. Nick kept falling asleep all the time, but as soon as the clock hit 11:30pm Joe could barely keep his eyes open so he figured old people just needed more naps. Nick was eating all the time, just constantly, and that was weird because Joe was actually less hungry now that they were old but he figured everyone's body was different. Nick was really irritable, snapping over things he would have found hilarious two weeks ago, but it was understandable if he was stressed out. They were old. Their career was hanging by a thread. They'd be lucky if they got out of this without ending up on the cover of the _Weekly World News_. Of course he was stressed out. Of course he didn't want to play Room Service Bingo or How Many Hats Can I Fit On My Head with Joe.

It was nothing. It was normal.

Except, Joe was still watching him. Worrying about him. He stared at the dark circles under Nick's eyes and wondered if they were darker today than they'd been yesterday. He kept a running tally of how many times Nick went to the bathroom. It was too many times. He watched Nick take off his shirt before bed and counted his ribs when he stretched his arms over his head.

Something was wrong.

"You should go to the doctor," Joe said.

"It's nothing," Nick snapped.

"You don't know that," Joe said. "We don't know what's going on with our bodies right now. We should probably all get checked out."

"I'm fine," Nick said, impatient. "I'm just tired."

"You're tired a lot," Joe said.

"You're annoying a lot," Nick said. "You don't see me sending you to the hospital."

"Nick." Joe stopped Nick with a hand on his shoulder. "Please."

The fact that Nick agreed only made Joe worry more. He never would have said yes unless he was feeling really bad. Worse than he'd been letting on. Kevin drove them to the walk-in clinic. Joe and Nick sat in the backseat. Nick leaned his head against the window, his eyes drifting closed. Joe sat in the middle seat, his knee pressed against Nick's. He studied Nick's face for any flicker of pain, any change in his expression. He pressed the side of his arm against Nick's arm, reassured a little bit by the contact. But only a little bit.

*

Diabetes. It was diabetes.

Joe stood at the foot of Nick's bed and held on to the metal frame with both hands. Nick was sleeping finally, after hours of tests and people coming to poke him with needles and waiting. There were tubes coming out of his arms, and machines beeped softly next to him, but he was going to be fine. The doctors said. Diabetes could be managed. He was going to be fine.

He could have died.

Joe could see gray closing in on the edges of his vision. His knees started to fold under him, and he sat down abruptly on the squeaky clean tile floor. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and gulped a few breaths of air before he pulled himself back up, feeling wobbly on his feet.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the stiff mattress crinkling under him. He reached over and touched the wrinkles at the edges of Nick's eyes gently. He touched the dark stubble on his jaw. He traced the lines on the sides of Nick's mouth. He was still expecting to see a different face, a younger face. He kept expecting Nick to be unbreakable.

Nick opened his eyes, blinking. He looked more like himself with his eyes open. His eyes looked the same except for the dark smudges underneath them. Joe lay down on the bed, Nick shifting over silently to make room. Joe turned his body into Nick's, trying to be careful of the tubes taped to the inside of his elbow, the back of his hand. The bruises on the back of his hand made Joe's gut twist ugly and sharp. Joe's fist tightened in the thin hospital robe, pressing tight against Nick's chest.

Nick wriggled his arm around Joe's shoulder, and reached up to pet his hand over Joe's hair slowly. When he spoke, Joe had to strain to hear it. "I'm sorry," he said. Joe looked up at him, but all he could see was the curve of his chin. "I thought I could, but I can't."

Joe held on a little tighter.

"I don't want to die." Nick's voice sounded younger than he looked. Young and scared.

"Nicky." Joe pressed his face into Nick's neck and closed his eyes.

"I can't do it." Nick's voice shook, and his hand hesitated on the top of Joe's head before stroking down again to rest at the nape of Joe's neck. "I'm sorry."

It was a kind of relief, not having to make the decision himself. Joe stretched his hand out flat against the hard bones of Nick's chest, and let himself feel the rise and fall of each breath, Nick's heart thumping steady and strong under his fingers. It was worth it. Hearing that heartbeat, knowing that heart would never, never stop, knowing that they'd never have to be here again. He'd trade anything, everything else, to know they'd never have to be here again.

"I'll understand," Nick whispered. "If you don't-"

"I'm coming with you," Joe interrupted fiercely. He could feel forever closing in on the two of them again. It was a kind of relief.

*

Joe had his arms wrapped around Nick's body, his head hanging over Nick's shoulder while he watched The Wizard drawing something complex and sort of ominous on the floor with his staff. Nick's hands were solid and warm on Joe's back, his fingers digging in a little.

"Whatever you do," The Wizard said. "No matter what you see. No matter what you hear. No matter what. Don't let go."

"What happens if we do?" Joe said.

"Believe me, you don't want to know." The Wizard stopped dragging his staff across the carpet. Thin faint lines started to glow in the path he'd drawn. "Ready?"

Before Joe even had a chance to nod, because honestly he _did_ want to know and he was still trying to prepare himself mentally and if he could have just a second to- They were in that nothing space he sort of remembered from the first time. That strange empty darkness, somehow solid and not. Standing on nothing. Suspended in the dark, surrounded by a million points of light.

He tightened his grip on Nick, his palms sweating. "So far, so good," he murmured into Nick's ear. Nick nodded, his shoulders tense. He was bracing himself. They both were.

The pain started slowly, just a sort of tingle like Nick had icy hot gel on his arms where they pressed against Joe's sides, his back. Then it started to burn. Joe panted as his nerve endings started to scream, like Nick's chest was pressed against open raw nerve endings, like Nick's arms were slicing into his back, like his skin was peeling away under each one of Nick's fingers. He could feel Nick jerk against him, his panicked breath in Joe's ear. His breath felt like it was a thousand needles stabbing under Joe's skin.

 _Don't let go._

Joe locked his hand over his wrist behind Nick's back and held on. It was just pain. He closed his eyes and held on. It felt like hours, like days. It was just pain. He held on until he heard Nick's voice small and high pitched, thin and helpless.

"You're hurting me," Nick said.

Joe opened his eyes and looked down at Nick as blood blossomed out red and thick and slow like flowers blooming under Joe's hands, under his arms. Nick's neck where Joe's chin touched turned slick with blood. Nick's back where Joe's hands touched dripped red and wet. Nick looked up at Joe, his eyes wide. He looked like Nick again, young and familiar, more familiar than anything else in the world. Joe watched horrified as he heard a strange popping and Nick's ears spat blood. A thick trickle of red oozed from Nick's nose.

A crunch, hollow and sort of far away, like it was coming from deep inside Nick's body, and there was blood dripping from his chest where Joe's own chest pressed against him. Joe could feel it wet, wet.

"Joe," Nick said, terrified, in pain.

Joe jerked away, then forward with a lurch, his hands still locked behind Nick's back. He was hurting Nick. Fuck. He had to- He had to stop hurting Nick. He could hear himself sobbing as he pulled away again, his hands almost flying loose, only catching himself at the last second.

 _Don't let go._

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," he was saying. He could feel the blood dripping down his arms, soaking through his clothes, hot, too hot and then cooler. There was too much blood. Christ. There was too much. He had to stop touching Nick. He couldn't stop. He _had to_. Nick drooped in his arms, his grip slackening around Joe's chest. Joe held on tighter, pressing Nick as close as he could despite Nick's weak whimper of pain.

And then Nick was quiet. His hands dropped down by Joe's sides, and Joe was holding his whole weight in his arms. He sagged. He was so heavy, and he was so wet with blood. He slipped a little in Joe's arms, and Joe worked desperately to keep him upright.

"Wake up," Joe screamed. Nick's head tipped back on his neck, boneless, his eyes closed. Joe tried to listen for Nick's breathing. He nudged Nick's cheek with his nose, tried to feel Nick's breath against his face. Joe tried to hear Nick's heartbeat. He was so still. Why wasn't he waking up? "Wake up," Joe whispered. If he put Nick down he could give him CPR. He could check his breathing. He could try to save him.

Everything was blurry and wet, and Joe knelt down in the nothing, and Nick was dying. He was dying, and Joe wasn't doing anything. He wasn't helping him. He was just- He started to pull his hands away. He needed them. He needed to do _something_. He had to let go.

 _Don't let go._

Nick wasn't moving. There was too much blood, and he wasn't moving.

Joe held on for what felt like days, months, years. He looked at Nick's face and waited for him to open his eyes. Nick didn't open his eyes.

Joe didn't let go.

There were four unicorns. They were pure white, so white they glowed soft and perfect. Joe couldn't tell if they were the same ones from before. You're too late, he wanted to say. You're too late, and I don't want it without him. "Don't!" he said weakly. He didn't want it without Nick. He didn't want it. He tried to squirm back away from them, dragging Nick awkwardly with him.

Their horns were so bright when they touched him, touched them both. Everything disappeared into that bright whiteness, the pain, the darkness, the stars. It was all swallowed up whole.

*

When Joe opened his eyes they were back in their hotel room. His whole body ached, every muscle burning dull and constant. He had to remind himself how to take every single breath. He'd never been this tired in his entire life. It was kind of like being born, probably. Except without all that slime and goo stuff. He fought to keep his eyes open past the pain and the sleep that was trying so hard to suck him under. He was still clinging to Nick tight, tight.

"Wake up," Joe tried to say, but his mouth moved around the words without sound. Nick stirred, his fingers suddenly digging hard into Joe's back. The relief was so strong, Joe felt like throwing up. Nick's eyes flew open, startled. He looked up. He was young, all the lines erased, all the grey gone. There was no blood. When he saw Joe blinking back at him, his arms got a little less tight around Joe's chest. He stroked Joe's back absently before digging his fingers in again.

They breathed together for what felt like a long time. Joe could feel Nick's heart beating through his shirt. It was the best thing he'd ever heard in his life, better than any music, better than anything.

"Thanks," Nick said. His voice sounded dry and half gone, as broken as Joe's felt. He reached up with shaky fingers to swipe at Joe's face where it was wet. He ducked his head down into the crook of Joe's neck, his eyelashes tickling.

"What for?" Joe whispered.

"For not letting go," Nick said into his collarbone.

Joe laughed; it came out jagged and wheezy. His arms tightened around Nick, until it had to be cracking Nick's ribs a little. Nick didn't complain. He just sighed into Joe, solid and steady. Warm. Alive. He was breathing against Joe's neck, regular soft breaths. Joe felt like he could feel forever in each one. He felt like maybe he could stand forever as long as it was the two of them.

"You goober," he said. Nick hitched against him, laughing too. "Holding on to you was always the easy part."

end


End file.
